


The Steward of Hanbury

by austenfan1990



Category: Cranford - Elizabeth Gaskell
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austenfan1990/pseuds/austenfan1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the BBC's <i>Cranford</i> series. Surviving the accident which has caused him the loss of his leg, Mr Carter slowly adapts to his new situation and the growing attraction between himself and Miss Laurentia Galindo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uncertainty

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps I'm a little late to the _Cranford_ fandom but after recently watching the series and being more than moved by the storyline regarding Mr Carter and his tragic end, I have finally decided to embark upon writing an AU story. It will be very much focused on Mr Carter and his relationship with Miss Galindo though the residents of Cranford and Hanbury Court will of course play their roles. Characterisations will mostly be based on those from the series, in particular, Mr Carter (Philip Glenister) and Miss Galindo (Emma Fielding).
> 
> The world and characters of _Cranford_ belong to Elizabeth Gaskell and the BBC; what is given here are merely my own paltry imaginings.

_June 1843_

'Is he all right?'

Dr Harrison looked up from his grim work, his hands covered in blood. He glanced at Miss Smith who was nearest the patient and she removed the gag from Mr Carter's mouth.

'He is very pale but he still breathes.'

'Thank you, Miss Smith,' he replied and turned his attention to Dr Marshland. 'Once I have finished stitching up the wound, Jack, you and I will have to move him into the sitting room.'

'Are you sure that is wise, Frank? He has lost a lot of blood and I doubt moving that leg of his will be good for him.'

'There is a fireplace there; we must keep him warm if he is to make it through the night,' said Dr Harrison, though inwardly he thought that even a night was sheer optimism at best. He had of course fixed Jem Hearne's arm but that had not required an amputation on this scale.

'What about Lady Ludlow?'

He barely suppressed a curse, remembering at the last moment that a lady was present. He had quite forgotten that Lady Ludlow and Miss Galindo were in the other room.

'I am afraid that she will have to wait before Mr Carter can return to Hanbury Court. He is in no state to be taken out of this house as yet.'

Half an hour later, his work was done. He looked upon his patient's face and was unable to discern anything in that pale countenance which might convince him that all would be well. Only time would tell.

'Would you like me to inform her ladyship and Miss Galindo of the situation, Dr Harrison?' asked Miss Smith.

He nodded gratefully. 'Thank you, Miss Smith.'

*

Lady Ludlow required little urging to be persuaded that Dr Harrison was right. Miss Galindo had watched her ladyship as Miss Smith informed them of the situation and was surprised at how easily she had taken to the young doctor's advice. She was well-acquainted with her often unyielding character but at this moment, there was none of that stubbornness in her expression, only relief and perhaps a little guilt.

As for Miss Galindo, she hardly knew what she felt. That terrible quarter of an hour in which Mr Carter had weakly dictated his last will and testament to her now seemed years ago. She had chided him a little in what she had hoped was a slightly jesting tone, a reminder of the conversations they had shared in his office. She knew now that had probably been inappropriate but it had been the only way in which to combat the grief – yes, grief – which threatened to rise overwhelmingly within her.

And then there was that look he had given her as she held his hand in hers…

'Laurentia.'

She started out of her reverie, remembering that she was no longer in Dr Harrison's sitting room but seated across Lady Ludlow in her carriage as they made their way to Hanbury Court.

Composing herself quickly, she murmured, 'Yes, my lady?'

Her ladyship appeared a little discomfited as if uncertain whether or not to continue. At length, she said, her gaze fixed on the passing greenery outside, 'I know very well that Mr Carter's current misfortune can be said to be a direct consequence of my recent actions. He would not have been present at the accident had I taken his advice.'

'My lady,' started Miss Galindo, her voice sympathetic. She was silenced by a gently raised hand.

'Pray do not endeavour to persuade me otherwise, Laurentia, for I have quite made up my mind. Therefore I must make amends when he is returned to Hanbury; that is what I am quite resolved upon doing. I will make certain that Mr Carter will have nothing but the best to aid him in his recovery.' Lady Ludlow's eyes turned to her companion at this and added in a gentle tone: 'Would I have your assistance in this matter?'

Laurentia Galindo smiled. 'Most certainly, Lady Ludlow.'


	2. Rising from the Ashes

Laden with opium and then rendered unconscious by the pain, Edward Carter had no conception of what had happened soon after the doctor’s saw had started its terrible work and he flitted in and out of consciousness for days. When at last he awoke, a slight groan escaped his lips as the glare of the blazing fire in the nearby hearth met his gaze. 

It was damnably hot. Even now, he could feel his shirt sticking to his back and perspiration trickling down his forehead. He could not fathom why the fire should be lit so nor did he understand why there seemed to be a myriad of blankets wrapped around him. The latter were weakly thrown off but his attempts to deal with the fire met with painful failure as he fell to the floor. His loud cry alerted Dr Marshland who soon hurriedly made his appearance. 

‘Mr Carter!’ he cried, shocked that man had managed to drag himself off the small camp bed they had prepared in the sitting room. Perhaps they been fortunate that they had not carried him upstairs for he might have done himself a great deal of harm had he fallen from a taller bed.

‘Dr Harrison?’ asked Mr Carter, teeth gritted as he tried to ignore the pain now spreading through the whole of his right side. 

‘No, he is currently at the Rectory. I am Dr Marshland.’

Too weak to reply, Mr Carter merely nodded and with Marshland’s aid, he was restored to his bed. 

‘Too hot,’ he said when the doctor tried to replace the blankets. 

Marshland pressed a hand against Carter’s forehead which was no longer cold to the touch. He then placed his stethoscope against his chest, noting that his heart rate had returned to normal. 

‘How long have I been here?’

‘Three days.’

‘And the leg?’

Marshland appeared to hesitate a little, taken aback by Carter’s directness. ‘It was cut off above the knee, Mr Carter.’

Carter nodded. After all, he had consented to the amputation but only on the condition that Dr Harrison was the one to do it. 

‘After Captain Brown kindly lent us his camp bed, we set you up here to stabilise your temperature,’ said Marshland by way of explanation, omitting to mention the numerous conversations in hushed tones both he and Frank had over the man’s fate. Mr Carter had nearly been at death’s door, having lost a great deal of blood and his leg always in danger of developing an infection. 

‘Hence the fire and blankets,’ murmured Carter. 

‘Yes.’ 

There were footsteps outside in the corridor and a few moments later, Dr Harrison joined them. 

‘Frank, I do believe that Mr Carter is going to make it,’ said Dr Marshland, smiling a little.

An expression of relief passed over Dr Harrison’s countenance at this and he stepped closer to the bed. 

‘How are you feeling, Mr Carter?’ 

Mr Carter felt a number of things but found that he could not put his thoughts into words and merely murmured, ‘Weak.’

‘Jack, could you bring a glass of water?’

A glass of water was duly prepared and carefully pressed against the patient’s lips. Carter drank eagerly, like a man dying of thirst. 

‘And now?’

‘Better,’ replied Mr Carter. 

Dr Harrison nodded. ‘Mr Carter, would you be able to eat something? It will be necessary to regain a little of your strength before we will be able to send you to Hanbury Court.’

Hanbury Court. How that seemed a world away! In a flash, thoughts of Lady Ludlow, Miss Galindo and Harry Gregson returned to him. He recalled Lady Ludlow bringing not only ice, linen and brandy but also an apology immediately before he had gone under the knife. She had been most earnest in expressing her regret and had he not been in such agony then, he would have been fully able to appreciate her kindness. Now perhaps was the time to begin to make amends. 

‘I believe I may be able,’ he replied.

*

Miss Galindo was seated at her usual desk in Mr Carter’s office, writing a letter on her ladyship’s behalf. She really had no idea what she was doing there as it was quite clear that all of the estate’s important affairs were locked away in Mr Carter’s innumerable number of drawers and cabinets. It was true that she had once gone through them without his permission in order to comply with Lady Ludlow’s wishes but on no account would she ever desire or consent to do so again.

Perhaps it had been for the sake of comforting herself that she had come here. It was foolish to think so, of that she was well aware, but the temptation had been too strong particularly when her own parlour had augmented rather than reduced her troubled state of mind. Memories of their most recent conversation there were still too fresh in her mind; too painful to recall just yet. _His_ office was situated perhaps on more emotionally neutral ground. Here was where Mr Carter the stern estate manager held court, surrounded by his books, his papers and his work; an image that was impressed in most if not everyone’s minds in Cranford. 

It was preferable for her at the present to think of him in this manner; it was a way of lessening the distress she always felt when her thoughts turned to their impromptu meeting in her parlour. For that afternoon, Mr Carter had revealed himself to be quite another man beneath the gruff exterior. His speech had been unflinchingly direct as was his custom but his earnestness impressed her and in a matter of minutes, Miss Galindo had thought they had known each other their whole lives. 

And it was this Mr Carter who had brought her flowers, who had revealed himself to her in so personal and earnest a manner that she was anxious to put out of her mind. She felt that if she did not do so, she would be in great danger of falling prey to her feelings if the dreaded news of his succumbing to his injuries were to reach her. 

‘Miss Galindo?’

Miss Galindo looked up, distracted from her thoughts. Harry Gregson was standing in the doorway of the office.

‘Harry,’ she said, putting down the letter which she had been half-heartedly penning.

‘I made sure to wipe my boots before I came in, Miss, you don’t have to worry about that,’ he said quickly, still standing in the doorway.

‘Please do not worry about that, Harry,’ she replied, smiling kindly at him. She rose from her desk and guided him inside.

‘No, thank you, Miss, I don’t want to dirty it,’ he said when she offered him a chair. ‘I only came in to ask whether the stories I’ve heard are true.’

‘Stories?’

Harry’s upper lip trembled. ‘About Mr Carter. About Mr Carter and the accident at the railway works.’

He appeared so forlorn that it was difficult not to take pity on him. She had not involved herself in both Harry and Mr Carter’s affairs since the poor boy was delegated to the cowsheds but had observed that Harry’s manner towards Mr Carter had cooled as of late. He had every right to be angry but the anger was misdirected and she suspected that even the Queen herself could not have persuaded Lady Ludlow to change her mind about Harry’s place in society, much less her estate manager. She could see that Harry was struggling to contain his guilt and she endeavoured to comfort him as best as she could.

‘I am afraid that the stories are quite true, Harry,’ she said softly.

‘Is he – is he going to die?’

His question though perfectly reasonable was unwelcome and a shudder went down her spine. Dr Harrison had of course, at Lady Ludlow’s request, sent daily reports of Mr Carter’s progress. As of yet, the tone of these had been cautious and subdued and had given little hint of hope. The morning after the operation, she had gone down to Dr Harrison’s surgery only to be kindly told that until Mr Carter had regained consciousness, there was no need for the ladies at Hanbury to trouble themselves. There was nothing to be done now, the two doctors had said, but to wait. Regardless, Lady Ludlow had sent basket after basket of supplies to the surgery and which had been duly received with a personal note of thanks. Thus they had waited for three days and felt no closer to finding an answer to that terrible question than they were at the beginning. 

‘I do not know, Harry,’ she admitted. ‘Dr Harrison has done all that he can.’

‘Dr Harrison’s a good doctor, isn’t he, Miss?’

‘Yes,’ she replied. Though, she thought to herself, even good doctors cannot stop good men from dying.

A curious expression entered Harry’s face at this and he said determinedly, ‘Then I’m sure that Mr Carter isn’t going to die.’

She smiled sadly at him. How admirable that a boy of only ten years and who had faced so much tribulation in his life still had the innocent optimism of youth. 

There was the sound of someone in the corridor and fearing that it was Lady Ludlow, Miss Galindo hastily gestured for Harry to move behind her. It was however only Giddings the local messenger and who appeared flushed and tired after a hard ride.

‘Begging your pardon, Miss Galindo, but an urgent message from Cranford,’ he said, taking out a piece of paper from his pocket.

‘Thank you, Mr Giddings.’ She took the note and unfolded it, recognising Dr Harrison’s hand.

_Dear Miss Galindo,_

_I apologise for the abruptness of this message but I hope that any inconvenience it has caused will be more than made up for by the good news which comes with it._

_I am happy to report that Mr Carter regained consciousness an hour ago and that after a thorough examination by both Dr Marshland and myself, he shows every sign of being well on the mend. Regardless, I must stress that these are early days yet and that no great movement on Mr Carter’s part should be yet attempted._

_However if it is her ladyship’s wish that Mr Carter were to recuperate at Hanbury as soon as possible, I can only recommend sending a carriage for him next week at the very earliest. If this would be agreeable, please send me a note via Mr Giddings to arrange a date and I shall personally see to it that everything is suitably arranged._

_Believe me to be,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_F. Harrison_

She read and reread the note, hardly able to believe her eyes. 

‘Dr Harrison says Mr Carter’s on the mend, Miss Galindo!’ cried Harry excitedly, having evidently read the note as he looked over her shoulder. There was an apologetic pause. ‘I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to read other people’s letters.’

‘That is very true, Harry,’ she replied but she too was unable to contain her joy at receiving such news. ‘However you are excused just this once,’ she smiled. 

‘Is there to be a reply, Miss Galindo?’ asked Giddings.

Miss Galindo had no doubt of what Lady Ludlow’s answer would be and taking matters into her own hands, she retrieved a piece of paper and began to write.

*

Mr Carter defied even Dr Harrison’s most optimistic expectations. A week had not been enough to allow him to regain all of his strength but his presence of mind was simply extraordinary. It was without saying that a loss of a limb is always a traumatic experience for any person that but he had been impressed at how little Mr Carter had fretted over his condition. Clearly here was a man who did not wallow in self-pity as most people were wont to do in such a situation. It was not easy for any man, he knew, to be unable to do things himself and having to be fed and waited upon like a child but to his credit, he bore it exceedingly well and only words of thanks came from his lips.

With such an obliging patient, both he and Dr Marshland were able to prepare for his journey back to Hanbury in good time in accordance to Miss Galindo’s note. News of Mr Carter’s recent misfortune had also travelled the whole length and breadth of Cranford and even on the morning of Mr Carter’s departure for Hanbury, supplies of bandages and other useful items were still being delivered to the surgery. 

As for the actual moving of the patient, Captain Brown was the first to offer his help in assisting that morning. Despite having been injured in the explosion, he would brook no refusals.

‘It was no trouble, I assure you,’ he replied when Mr Carter thanked him for all his help. He felt quite sorry for the man as he sat pale and tired in his chair, a mere shadow of the vigorous figure he had seen only weeks before. ‘It is the very least I can do. After all, Mr Carter, it is because of us that you have suffered the loss of your leg.’

‘It was no one’s doing, Captain Brown,’ replied Mr Carter without the slightest trace of bitterness. ‘If there is anyone who requires help, it would be the families of the two men who died. Tell me, are they to be well provided for?’

Captain Brown was momentarily flummoxed by the question. He had heard that Carter was a caring gentleman but he had never expected to be quizzed about another man’s affairs when the man himself had just escaped with his life.

‘Well, James Cole was a foundling, poor fellow, so there’s little we could do for him apart from arranging a decent burial. William Garrett had a wife and son to feed but we shall speak to Sir Charles.’

‘If you should find any difficulty in speaking to Sir Charles, Captain, please do not hesitate to ask me – ’

‘Mr Carter, I am quite certain that you need your rest,’ said a new voice. 

‘Miss Galindo,’ said Mr Carter in surprise as she entered the room with Dr Harrison. He felt foolish being unable to rise from to his feet as Captain Brown bowed next to him and instead nodded his head as courteously as he could. 

‘I did not expect you to join us this morning, Miss Galindo,’ said Captain Brown. 

‘Lady Ludlow was quite determined to see me accompany Mr Carter to Hanbury, Captain.’ Her gaze fell upon Mr Carter and she felt her face flush a little and added, ‘But pray, please understand I would have still done so even if she had not asked me.’

‘But of course,’ replied Mr Carter. If it had only been himself and Miss Galindo in the room, he would have said much more but seeing that there were others present, he merely smiled at her. 

With the help of Dr Harrison and Captain Brown, Mr Carter was aided to the coach waiting outside. 

‘I have not yet thanked you, Dr Harrison, for all you have done,’ said Mr Carter once he had been seated inside. 

The younger man shook his head modestly. 

‘Think nothing of it, sir. I am glad to have been able to be of service. My only regret is that we were not able to save your leg.’

‘You have saved my life – surely that has not escaped your notice.’

‘You are too kind, sir.’ 

‘Are we to see you at Hanbury soon, Dr Harrison?’ asked Miss Galindo as they stood in front of the coach. ‘Lady Ludlow would very much like to thank you personally.’

‘I am at her ladyship’s disposal. I hope to visit regularly to check upon Mr Carter’s progress; a man in his condition requires more than the usual medical attention.’

‘That is perfectly understandable. I am certain that she will not object.’

‘That is comforting to hear.’ Dr Harrison lowered his voice, glancing briefly towards the interior of the coach before speaking again. ‘If I may be allowed to confide in you, Miss Galindo – Mr Carter has so far proved to be a man of great mental fortitude even in such trying circumstances. You perhaps overheard his exchange with Captain Brown before we entered the room?’

‘Indeed I did,’ she replied. She had been greatly impressed by Mr Carter’s lack of self-regard. 

‘I am not an expert in such things but there may come a time when his condition will perhaps get the better of him. I suspect that it has not quite had an effect on him yet.’

‘Surely you do not think – but Mr Carter is not –’ she began, fear dawning in her dark eyes.

‘Oh, no,’ said Dr Harrison quickly, reading her mind. ‘That is not what I meant at all. I only desired to say that should he attempt to withdraw or isolate himself from the world, we must try all we can to prevent that.’

She smiled at him, touched by his concern. ‘Of course, Dr Harrison.’

‘Thank you, Miss Galindo,’ he replied and aided her into the coach.


	3. A Reunion of Like Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having recently got hold of _The Cranford Companion_ , much of Mr Carter's and especially Miss Galindo's background here derive from the facts given in that book. The rest is purely from my imagination.

‘Mr Carter!’

Mr Carter grunted a little as he lost his balance, grateful that there was a tree nearby with which he could right himself. What he was not entirely grateful for was Miss Galindo’s timing when she joined him. 

It had been nearly two months since the accident and despite the fact that he had received every possible care and attention from her ladyship for which he was very grateful for; a sense of restlessness was becoming increasingly felt.

Confined to his room at Hanbury Court, his mind dwelt endlessly on matters which had troubled him before the operation and he despaired a little at how little the situation had changed. His wish to return to his duties fell on deaf ears. Although Dr Harrison was of the opinion that it would be beneficial, saying that the fresh air and exercise would do him good but in Lady Ludlow’s domain, he too was soon silenced. Hating the idea of wasting any more time, he had asked Jem Hearne to fashion a pair of crutches. The man was as good as his word and the crutches arrived just over a week after his request. He had refused imbursement however, muttering that it was a token of gratitude after Mr Carter had been kind enough to fetch some ice for his own operation the year before. It was these same crutches with which he had been able – until this moment – to make his way unobserved onto the grounds.

‘Miss Galindo,’ he said. ‘I was not expecting you today.’

‘Evidently not’ she replied, fixing him with a reproving look. ‘You ought to be resting, Mr Carter.’

‘I believe I have had more than my fair share of resting; far more than any man ought to in his lifetime,’ he said impatiently. He added in a gentler tone, ‘I apologise if I seem a little brusque, Miss Galindo. It is not easy to be confined to my room for days on end.’

Miss Galindo’s expression softened. 

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But I think I should be the one to apologise for surprising you so. I only came to see whether you would care for some tea.’

‘Gladly,’ he replied, only to realise that his arms were trembling from the sudden exertion. ‘Excuse me, Miss Galindo, but I fear I may not be able to return inside without your assistance.’

‘You need only ask, Mr Carter,’ she said. Laying his hand on her shoulder, they made their way to the portico where a tea tray had been placed on the table there. 

‘I suppose Lady Ludlow did not provide you with those,’ she said when they had seated themselves, gesturing towards the crutches.

‘No, these are from Jem Hearne. I thought it best not to disturb her on such things and I also suspect that she wouldn’t be pleased to learn that I am actively taking steps in disobeying her orders.’

‘She merely has your interests at heart.’

‘And I have hers, which are far more pressing than mine,’ he replied. ‘The sooner I am able to return to my duties the better.’

She let out an exasperated sigh. 

‘You disapprove, Miss Galindo?’

‘On the contrary.’ 

‘And yet you appear dissatisfied.’

‘Mr Carter, as much as I sympathise with you, there is really no need to be rushing about. The estate’s affairs are in good order – ’

‘I beg your pardon but when her ladyship has mortgaged the estate, I hardly consider that to be in ‘good order’.’

Vexed and unable to think of anything to say, she reached blindly for her cup of tea. The hot liquid spilled onto the table and she cried out in surprise. 

Mr Carter was the first to react and he moved towards her with a swiftness that was unexpected. 

‘Miss Galindo, are you hurt?’ 

‘No,’ she replied but winced slightly as she examined her hand. A part of her right palm was beginning to redden and it was clear that she had scalded it. 

‘Mr Carter – ’ she started as he reached for one of his crutches and hoisted himself up from his chair. Disappearing indoors, he returned minutes later with a washbasin and a cloth. 

‘If you would permit me?’ he asked, gesturing towards her hand with the now wet cloth. 

She nodded and extended her hand which he took in his. The water was cool to the touch and greatly relieved the pain which now beginning to be felt. 

‘I’m sorry. It was quite foolish of me to be so careless.’ 

She felt a vague sense of nervousness come over her as he attended to her which increased when she saw the intense expression on his countenance which was now quite devoid of the impatience which she had seen only minutes before. Decorum told her to look away but she discovered that she could not and only averted her eyes when his piercing blue gaze looked up into her face. 

‘There is no need to apologise,’ he said, looking chastened. ‘Had I not been so obstinate, I doubt this would have happened.’ He retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket, soaked it and wrapped it around her hand. ‘It would be best to leave it there for some time.’

‘Thank you. How silly it is that I should end up being attended to.’

He suppressed a sigh. ‘Miss Galindo, as much as I appreciate your concern, I would like to say that I am not used to being – mollycoddled.’

‘As am I, Mr Carter and you may be assured that we are equal in that respect.’ She was silent for a few moments before adding, ‘Perhaps you have heard something of my upbringing from Lady Ludlow?’

He shook his head. ‘No, she has never spoken of it.’

‘It is no secret that all of Cranford knows that she is my patron but to tell the truth, we are actually related albeit only distantly.’

‘I was not aware of that.’ His tone was that of mild surprise.

‘It is not supposed to be widely known. My father was a baronet but once my mother died soon after I was born, he squandered the little money he had. I have always believed that had my mother lived, there would have been economy in our household but that was alas not to be so. He died when I was eleven, leaving me an orphan. Being the only child, I was sent here to Hanbury to live alongside Lady Ludlow and her children.

‘She treated me as one of her own, and the kindness she showed then and continues to show me I have not forgotten. But even then, such an arrangement did not sit well with me for it is not in my character to stand idly by when one is able to do something for oneself. Soon after I arrived at Hanbury, I began to make my own clothes and when I later came of age and having no inheritance I could call my own, she supported my setting up trade as a milliner. Oh, pray do not take pity on me, Mr Carter. I confess it is not the easiest way of making a living but I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘I hadn’t the least intention of doing so,’ he replied with feeling. ‘I cannot profess to be the son of a baronet, only the son of a yeoman farmer. But I know all too well how difficult it is to make one’s way in the world. Had my parents not been so eager to see me progress, I might have continued as generations of my family have done: cultivating the land and being content with one’s lot. ’

‘Is that why you’re so determined to educate Harry?’

‘I have always been of the opinion that no man – or woman – should resign themselves to a fate which they are told they can never break away from. Lady Ludlow may disagree and so might the rest of society at large but you and I, Miss Galindo, are living examples of what people can achieve if given the opportunity.’

‘You flatter me, Mr Carter. My achievements, if you care to describe them as such, are of little worth.’ 

There was a curious expression on his countenance and she asked, ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I was only reflecting on how wrong I was to regard you as merely a woman, Miss Galindo, for I believe that you are perhaps the most remarkable woman of my acquaintance.’

She flushed a little. If spoken by another, Mr Carter’s words might have been construed as complimentary but he was a man of great directness and she knew that whenever he spoke, it was truly meant. 

‘Mr Carter!’

Their reaction to that well-known voice was immediate. At Lady Ludlow’s approach, Miss Galindo immediately rose from her chair while Mr Carter attempted to do the same.

‘Mr Carter, what in heaven’s name are you doing here? Laurentia, I believe I made it quite clear that he was not to be disturbed –’

‘Forgive me, my lady, but it was entirely my doing,’ interjected Mr Carter. ‘I made my way to the grounds on my own; it was there that Miss Galindo found me a quarter of an hour ago.’

‘You made your way downstairs without assistance?’

‘Mr Carter has had a pair of crutches made,’ explained Miss Galindo. 

Lady Ludlow glanced at them, noting that they were solidly built but rather crudely made.

‘You should have asked me, Mr Carter,’ she said.

‘I did not want to inconvenience you.’

‘It would have been of no inconvenience. You are my estate manager and I am responsible for your welfare, particularly so when we have worked together these past ten years.’

Roberts, her ladyship’s butler joined them at this point and announced that Dr Harrison had arrived at the house.

‘I had better not keep you, Mr Carter,’ said Lady Ludlow. ‘Roberts, please ask Dr Harrison to wait in the library; it will be easier for Mr Carter to make his way there.’ 

‘Yes, my lady.’ Roberts bowed and left. 

She returned her attention to Mr Carter and looked up into his face, noting that his complexion had much improved since his arrival over a month before. It heartened her to see him looking much like his old self again. 

‘It is good to see you finally restored to health.’

‘Lady Ludlow,’ he said, managing a slight bow. 

She left the portico, leaving the both of them alone.

‘Would you like me to help you to the library, Mr Carter?’ asked Miss Galindo, turning to him. She stood beside him and stretched out her hand, only to remember that it was still wrapped in his handkerchief. 

‘Oh, your handkerchief,’ she started.

‘Please do not trouble yourself,’ he replied. ‘I have no need of it at present. Perhaps while Dr Harrison is here at Hanbury, we can ask him to properly treat your hand as I am certain that his expertise is much advanced than mine.’

He put his hand on her shoulder again and they entered the house, not noticing the regal figure of Lady Ludlow observing them from a distance, a small smile tugging at her lips.


	4. Developments of Great Significance

A special service organised by Reverend Hutton for the two men who had lost their lives at the railway works was to be held on the first Sunday of August. It had been postponed out of consideration for Mr Carter and once word had travelled that he was very nearly fully recovered, an invitation was sent and promptly accepted. Such a service would have been inconceivable in larger cities like Manchester but Cranford was not a large city. It was a market town where the bonds of community were stronger than anything else and the people of Cranford prepared themselves for the solemn occasion diligently.

There had been however a considerable degree of reluctance, especially on Sir Charles Maulver’s part, to let the service take place. It was of course tragic that the men had died, he thought, but they were merely labourers and nothing more though he did not say as much when conversing in polite company. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of progress and to arrange a service would only attract negative and unwanted attention to the railway which had already seen its fair share of difficulties during its construction. He was thus shocked when he heard that Lady Ludlow had also agreed to go, having received a personal invitation from Reverend Hutton himself.

‘I understand your feelings, Sir Charles,’ said Lady Ludlow as he told her of this. ‘But as Liege Lady of Cranford, it is my duty to see that the people of this town receive their proper due and respect, especially when they are no longer of this earth.’

‘Forgive me, my lady, for speaking so plainly but I hasten to add that your appearance at church would only give strength to the idea that the railway is a bad thing,’ he argued. ‘It is well-known amongst all of the locals that you rarely make pubic visits and your appearance this Sunday would only imprint the accident in their minds for years to come.’

‘In that case, I think whether I go or not is immaterial if that is your concern. You have clearly forgotten that the accident nearly claimed the life of my estate manager,’ pronounced Lady Ludlow severely and Sir Charles immediately knew better than to disagree. ‘Had it not been for Dr Harrison’s swift attention, we would have had not two but three lives to mourn. Mr Carter will remember that day for the rest of his life through the most physical manifestation possible – through the loss of his leg. Whilst he remains at Hanbury, he as well as the people of Cranford will not be able to forget what has happened regardless of what you do.’

Sir Charles could do nothing but admit defeat and nothing more was said on this matter between them.

*

That first Sunday of August was to mark Mr Carter’s first public appearance since his convalescence. Dr Harrison had been so much satisfied with his patient’s progress that he had taken the step of ordering an artificial limb from London on Mr Carter’s behalf.

‘It is no pirate’s peg leg, I assure you, Mr Carter,’ he said wryly upon seeing Mr Carter’s slightly dubious expression when he told him. ‘There has been much advancement in the development of artificial limbs since the last century; this one, I believe, is derived from the leg made for the Marquess of Anglesey after Waterloo.’

‘It is an admirable contraption,’ admitted Mr Carter when it was presented to him, ‘And I confess that I have been hoping for some better means of getting about other than using crutches.’ A man in his position needed to make daily inspections across her ladyship’s extensive property and he could only use his crutches a certain period of time before he felt exhausted.

‘Then I am certain that you will soon appreciate the advantages of it,’ said Dr Harrison.

With only two weeks until the service, he threw himself into the task of learning how to walk again or at least, to walk without causing distress to those around him. He knew very well that the first reaction his condition triggered were looks of varying levels of pity. He had seen them on the faces of the servants, Captain Brown and even Miss Galindo at times and he was determined not to let it continue. 

Wearing an artificial leg at first proved to be no less tiring and he still required the use of a walking stick but word soon spread of Mr Carter’s admirable progress and Harry Gregson could not help hearing of it when he overheard Dr Harrison giving his report to Lady Ludlow on the portico as he made his way across the grounds.

Harry had every intention of visiting Mr Carter during his convalescence but a fear of triggering Lady Ludlow’s wrath and an uncertainty as to how he would be received by Mr Carter kept him away from the house. With his mentor finally restored to health however, he was persuaded by Miss Galindo to write a letter.

‘But I wouldn’t know what to write, Miss,’ he said, looking at the paper and ink she had set down in front of him in Mr Carter’s office. ‘Letters are meant to be long and I’m not sure if I can write a lot.’

Although Miss Galindo still tended to her millinery from nine till noon every weekday morning, she had more or less taken on the task of handling the affairs of the estate. Having heard of this, Lady Ludlow had taken Harry out of the cowsheds and allowed him to assist her, only on the condition the boy was to return to them once Mr Carter was able to resume his duties. It was a pity, thought Miss Galindo, that her ladyship was still unable to change her views about his place in society as Harry deserved a brighter future than the one which had been seemingly assigned to him. Nevertheless, in the two months since the accident, she had picked up where Mr Carter had left off and continued his education as well as she could.

‘Letters don’t have to be long,’ she replied. ‘The purpose of writing a letter is to let someone know of your thoughts or feelings.’

‘Is there a difference between notes and letters?’

‘I think the main difference is that notes are shorter but less formal.’

‘So I can’t write Mr Carter a note, Miss Galindo?’ asked Harry.

‘No, I’m afraid you can’t.’ Seeing the crestfallen look on his face, she added with a smile, ‘If you like, the both of us can work on it together, Harry.’

Warming to the idea immediately, Harry’s letter was duly written and Mr Carter soon received the following missive:

_Dear Mr Carter,_

_I am very glad to hear that you are feeling better. I am sorry I did not visit you when you during your convalescence_ (here ‘convalescence’ was misspelled then corrected in what was most certainly Miss Galindo’s hand) _but I hope that this letter will make up for it._

_Lady Ludlow has allowed me to help Miss Galindo in your office which I enjoy very much. Miss Galindo has been very kind and has been helping me with my reading and writing and when she has the time, she allows me to read some verse from that book you so kindly gave me._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry Gregson_

It was short and the handwriting was childish and ill-formed. But no elegant, sophisticated hand could have filled Mr Carter with the sense of immense pride and satisfaction he felt now. For a boy of ten and who had never received any sort of education before, this was a significant achievement. He was also grateful for Miss Galindo’s support and said as much when he entered his office for the first time in many months one afternoon.

‘I am much indebted to you, Miss Galindo.’

‘Mr Carter,’ started Miss Galindo, rising from her desk and much taken by surprise. ‘I was not expecting you today.’

‘Evidently not,’ he replied drily. He retrieved the letter from an inner pocket and presented it to her.

‘It is Harry’s letter,’ she said.

‘Yes, and your corrections too, no doubt.’

‘My assistance was minimal. It was all Harry’s work, Mr Carter. Your faith in him is certainly not misplaced.’

‘I am glad to hear you say so. As I was saying, I am much indebted to you for furthering his education while I was – indisposed.’

‘I am only happy that Lady Ludlow allowed Harry to assist me here. Had she not decided to do so, I doubt I would have been of little use with regard to his education.’

‘Yes, I was quite surprised when I heard of her ladyship’s change of mind.’

‘Unfortunately, it is only a temporary change, Mr Carter. As much as I endeavoured to persuade her otherwise, she was adamant to see him return to the cowsheds once you returned.’

Mr Carter’s smile slipped a little and Miss Galindo wondered she had been right to reveal this.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you,’ she added hastily.

‘No, on the contrary,’ he replied but his tone was grave and the frustration of former months briefly returned to his countenance. Attempting to disregard this, he looked around and noted that Harry’s desk had only been recently vacated.

‘Has Harry been here?’

‘Yes, he only left some minutes ago to retrieve his coat.’

Just as the words left her lips, there were hurried footsteps in the corridor and a breathless Harry made his entrance.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Galindo, I – Mr Carter!’

‘Harry,’ said Mr Carter. Miss Galindo saw the smile returning to his lips and her heart warmed at his obvious delight at seeing the boy again.

Whatever vague sense of nervousness Harry felt upon seeing Mr Carter before him, it dissipated once he realised that his presence there was welcomed. Admittedly he also thought it was strange seeing his old mentor standing before him as tall and upright as ever, knowing as much as he knew about his accident. It was only when Mr Carter moved towards him, hand outstretched, that he noticed his altered gait.

‘Miss Galindo and I were just discussing the letter you wrote to me, Harry, and which I thank you for. It was very well-written.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Harry before glancing at Miss Galindo and adding chivalrously: ‘But it’s really Miss Galindo you should thank, Mr Carter. She helped a great deal when I had trouble with the word conval – conval –’

‘‘Convalescence’,’ said Miss Galindo gently, unable to suppress a smile.

‘In that case, Miss Galindo,’ said Mr Carter suddenly, ‘you have both our humble thanks.’

He turned towards Miss Galindo with an expression which Harry found difficult to describe. When he had last been with the two of them, there had always been an odd sort of tension between them, the sort that he had seen between people who simply happened to be thrown together in circumstances out of their control. Where there had been tension, there was now genuine warmness and perhaps this was what Harry could perceive in Mr Carter’s usually stern features.

What Harry did not recognise in that look was something only an experienced eye could discern. While it might have escaped his notice, it had not escaped that of Lady Ludlow and in time, the ladies of Cranford. When Mr Carter made his appearance that Sunday morning, Miss Octavia Pole was unsurprisingly the first to comment.

‘Did you not see how he looks whenever he sets eyes upon Miss Galindo? That is a look of affection if ever I saw one. How remarkable it is that whenever a gentleman is taken ill, some romance or other is inevitably a result of it?’

‘My dear Miss Pole,’ interjected Mrs Jamieson in the primmest tone she possessed. ‘This is not the time or place to speak of such frivolities.’

‘Oh, but would you call romance a frivolity?’ asked Mrs Forrester. She cast her gaze towards them and sighed contently. ‘I think they are admirably suited. Miss Galindo, as you know, is such an independent soul and I have often longed for some good gentleman to come her way. How odd is it that all these years I have never realised Mr Carter was so striking. You do not think that his false leg has made him taller?’

‘Mrs Forrester!’ cried Mrs Jamieson, scandalised.

‘Oh, do not be so foolish,’ replied Miss Pole but her eyes followed her friend’s gaze and she said stiffly, ‘I beg to disagree with you; Miss Galindo has every right to keep her independence. Men are so in the way of a house – I see no reason why she should receive a gentleman’s attentions when she has lived perfectly on her own for so long.’

‘Surely Mr Carter wouldn’t be in the way; after all, he is her ladyship’s estate manager.’

Thereupon an animated discussion regarding a gentleman’s proper place in a household followed and both Mr Carter and Miss Galindo were spared their curiosity for the present.

*

Ever since the death of his wife five years ago, Edward Carter had lived quietly and had rarely engaged in society. The people of Cranford respected him greatly, knowing that he was their liege lady’s representative but knew little of him as a person apart from the fact that he possessed a stern character but also a kind and considerate heart. He was not handsome in the conventional way nor was he particularly charming, and the bluntness of his speech could give offence when offence was unintended, especially to those of an exceptionally sensitive disposition.

Regardless of some of these potentially unattractive qualities in a suitor, Sarah Bolton had been much taken with the young man from Yorkshire and within a year of his arrival in Cranford, Edward Carter was happily married and inherited his father-in-law’s post as estate manager to Lady Ludlow upon the death of the former two years later. However, his state of marital bliss was not to last and three years later, Sarah Carter followed her father, carried away by typhoid fever. Carter too had been taken ill and had barely managed to escape death himself but for a year, he was wracked by guilt, ashamed that it was he and not his dear wife who survived.

Reserved by nature, he had never divulged any of his feelings to anyone and instead threw himself into his work to combat his grief. In his cottage located a quarter of an hour’s walk from Hanbury Court, he rose every morning at half past five, washed, dressed, and breakfasted before leaving his front door at a quarter past six precisely. Half past six saw him in his office, attending to the affairs of the forthcoming day before rising from his desk at eight to take his daily inspection of the grounds. Meetings with her ladyship were few and far between unless there was a particularly pressing matter to discuss. He returned to his cottage for lunch at twelve and returned to his office in the afternoon in order to deal with various pieces of correspondence. The rest of the afternoon was spent engaged in a variety of duties, either indoors or outdoors, on the estate or in town before retiring to his cottage at seven. 

Four years passed in this manner and such a state of affairs would have continued had it not been for Harry. He had initially been inclined to dislike the boy, seeing him as nothing but a poacher and presenting a threat to his mistress’s property. But Harry’s brightness and unexpected thirst for knowledge had changed his perception of him completely. He saw reflected in the boy’s eyes the very same feelings he himself had when growing up on his father’s farm and Carter immediately recognised that his duty was to teach and train the boy as well as he could in order to secure a better future for him.

Soon he found himself acting more boldly than he ever in the entirety of his career at Hanbury and even Lady Ludlow did not fail to see the effect of Harry Gregson on her estate manager. Mr Carter was now a man revived and it alarmed her to see him so unusually rebellious. Since her childhood, she had always harboured a horror of rebellion and revolutionaries and her decision to assign Miss Galindo as Mr Carter’s assistant and later Harry to the cowsheds had been to separate the boy from Mr Carter as much as it had been to put him in his rightful place in society.

Despite this, it had all been in vain as events conspired to act against her. With Septimus’ demand for money came the mortgage which robbed her of her peace of mind and then that dreadful accident which nearly claimed Mr Carter’s life. The moment Laurentia had told her of the accident, she had realised the folly of her actions and surprised even herself when she accompanied her to Dr Harrison’s without a second thought.

Thus when Mr Carter spoke of his desire to keep Harry in his office even after returning to his duties, Lady Ludlow finally conceded that she was losing a battle she could never win. She made a last attempt to contradict him and to refute his arguments but this was stirred on more by a need to preserve her dignity than anything else and once again, they reached a stalemate. Comprehending that it was the only way in which she could fully keep her promise to make amends to him, she finally granted him his wish.

‘However you cannot be ignorant of my views concerning one’s place in society, Mr Carter,’ she said disapprovingly.

Mr Carter thought that had he confined himself to his place in society, he would have never been in a position to even speak to her or be employed at Hanbury and would have instead remained in Yorkshire tending to the family crops. But he let the thought pass.

‘However as you are determined to educate the boy, I confess I am powerless to prevent you from doing so and I thus leave his fate in your hands. I expect that you will be prepared to explain to his parents why he will no longer be employed?’

‘I assure you I have no intention of taking away his family’s livelihood. I plan to pay Harry out of my own pocket for his assistance. As for the cowsheds, they are not to be neglected for I have arranged for another lad to replace him, if you would find him agreeable.’

Lady Ludlow’s astonishment at such an arrangement was evident and she said, ‘You have clearly given this a great deal of thought, Mr Carter. Tell me, what exactly is it about Harry Gregson that compels you to worry so over his future?’

‘Had he not shown any indication of having potential, I admit I might not have given him my attention. But Harry Gregson does have potential, my lady, and I am determined to see to it that he will succeed in life whatever he may choose to be.’

There was a moment of silence before his mistress said quietly, ‘Very well, Mr Carter. Bring the new boy to me this afternoon so that I may examine him.’

‘Thank you, my lady,’ said Mr Carter and he truly meant it. He knew all too well how painful it was for her to accede to his wishes and his already great respect for her increased a hundredfold.

With his heart lighter than it had been in months, he made his way to his office to inform Harry that he was no longer required to work in the cowsheds and he smiled a little to himself as he imagined the boy’s reaction. His thoughts also briefly turned to Miss Galindo and _her_ reaction and though he himself did not realise it at that moment, it was clear that she was becoming an increasingly integral part of his life, perhaps even more than he dared to admit.

His thoughts then moved elsewhere and as he walked, walking stick in hand, he made another vow to himself; he would eliminate the problem of the mortgage to the best of his ability and would not rest until he did so.

That was, after all, the very least that her ladyship deserved.


	5. The Garden Party

August was the month during which the annual garden party was held at Hanbury Court and this year was no exception. Mr Carter, in spite of Lady Ludlow saying that such an effort was not necessary on account of his health, was determined that it should continue as planned. After enduring such a tragic state of events, the people of Cranford more than welcomed the prospect of relieving themselves a little of their cares and worries.

‘It will be quite an undertaking, Mr Carter,’ said Miss Galindo as they both looked through the estate’s accounts; Mr Carter drawing up a chair next to her desk. ‘Are you quite certain that it can be afforded?’

‘If we take certain economies, I shouldn’t see why we cannot,’ he replied. ‘It is true that the Hanbury coffers will feel some of the strain but that will be nothing compared to the happiness it will give to her ladyship, especially after such a trying year.’

‘It is a tradition that I know she could never bear to forgo,’ agreed Miss Galindo. ‘I believe that until her last dying breath, Hanbury will always be host to a garden party. Since I was a girl, it has always been a fixture here like that Shetland which seems to have been here since time immemorial. I remember always being the first to ride it every summer for the rest of my cousins were quite afraid of it.’

‘That does not surprise me,’ said Mr Carter. ‘It is clear that your boldness of spirit was present even such an early age.’

Again his comments took her off-guard and she flushed a little.

‘And you, Mr Carter? I am certain you did not act much differently when you were a boy.’

‘I suppose you may be right. I am quite certain that I may have caused my parents a great deal of anxiety when I was a youth. I was fond of outdoor pursuits and it was more often than not that I returned home with cuts and bruises after a climbing a tree or other.’

‘But I suppose that every boy did the same.’

‘Perhaps. I was the youngest of three sons and I was given more liberty to do what I wished than my brothers which I think accounts for my rather boisterous behaviour. It was fortunate perhaps that when our uncle died, I was given a book as a legacy. It was an old leather bound volume of Shakespeare which for a boy of ten was much too difficult to comprehend. However I remember being fascinated by the words on the page and being gripped with a determination to understand them. It must have been a relief for my father to learn that I had settled down. He took me to see the local vicar who taught me to read and write. My brothers, meanwhile, remained and still remain oblivious to the beauty of the written word which I sometimes pity them for.’

‘Do you still remain in contact with them?’

‘I have not seen them these past ten years since I arrived here,’ replied Mr Carter and as he said this, he realised how far away his life in Yorkshire seemed to be. ‘It is not that I do not care for them or Yorkshire but whenever I think of home, it is invariably always Hanbury.’

‘You must love Hanbury a great deal.’

‘At times I am inclined to believe that there is no one, apart from her ladyship, who loves Hanbury as much as I do.’

‘I think you may not be far off the mark, Mr Carter,’ said Miss Galindo and she thought it a shame that Lady Ludlow’s own son did not share Mr Carter’s love for the estate.

She had recently received a letter from Septimus who apart from giving her an entertaining account of what was happening at Lake Como sent the same message as he did every year: that he was regretfully unable to attend his mother’s garden party on account of his health but hoped to do so next year. There was little sincerity in that missive and what was most painful was that Lady Ludlow knew it though she would never admit it. With every passing year, Miss Galindo felt that she knew him less and less and now she felt she did not know him at all. Rumours of scandalous escapades regarding an English aristocrat in Italy had reached her now and then but she had never relayed such information to her ladyship or to anyone else. It was not an easy secret to bear but for Lady Ludlow’s sake, she bore it as well as she could, greatly hoping that Septimus would one day see the light and redress the error of his ways.

*

With Miss Galindo’s help, economies were indeed made and with the exceptionally fine weather that late August afternoon, the party was immediately hailed by its guests as a triumph, even more so when it was known that there had been less time than usual to arrange it. Knowing that it was still tiring for Mr Carter to get around, Harry had voluntarily acted as his messenger during the preparations and he was to be seen all across the grounds, darting from this spot to another while Mr Carter looked upon the proceedings with a watchful eye.

‘You have certainly earned a shilling this time, Harry,’ said Mr Carter on the day of the party and presenting him with his well-earned wages. ‘You have done very well.’

‘Thank you, sir. Am I to get ice cream like last time, Mr Carter?’ asked Harry hopefully.

‘I will consider it. Now off with you, lad,’ came the reply and Harry duly ran off. ‘I fear that he may be becoming too mischievous for his own good,’ he added when he saw the look of amusement on Miss Galindo’s face. 

‘You’ve spoiled him, Mr Carter.’

‘I sincerely hope not,’ he replied but he too was smiling.

They walked to the front of the house where Lady Ludlow awaited them with the lean figure of Sir Charles standing behind her chair.

‘Mr Carter,’ said Sir Charles stiffly when he saw him.

‘Sir Charles.’

‘Mr Carter, I thank you for your efforts in arranging this event,’ said Lady Ludlow. ‘It is marvellous what you have achieved.’

‘Thank you, my lady. However, I would have achieved very little had it not been for Miss Galindo’s help.’

‘Of course. Laurentia, you have done well. And I take it, Mr Carter, that Harry Gregson has also played his part?’

‘Indeed. He acted as courier during most of the preparations and I gave him a shilling for his good work.’

‘He has indeed earned it for Hanbury never looks as splendid as it does when hosting my garden parties.’

Lady Ludlow’s dark eyes gazed across the merry scene playing out before her but Miss Galindo detected at once the barely disguised sadness in her expression. She knew all too well what thoughts were presently running through her mind; that of her regret that Lord Septimus was once again absent from the proceedings. However with Mr Carter present, Lady Ludlow did not dare to raise the subject of her only son as she would have otherwise done.

‘Laurentia, my dear, I am feeling a little tired. Would you be so kind as to help me inside?’

‘Certainly, Lady Ludlow.’

The two ladies went into the house and when Miss Galindo returned a few minutes later, only Sir Charles remained on the terrace.

‘Mr Carter was called away by that boy, Laurentia,’ he said in reply to her enquiring look. ‘Which is just as well since I’ve been meaning to speak with you. Have you any idea as to why Lady Ludlow has been so inflexible of late?’

‘Inflexible, Sir Charles?’

‘I take it from your tone that the phenomenon is perhaps only known to me. Every time I even mention the railway, she shuts up like an oyster. I cannot understand why she cannot see the benefits of such a scheme.’

With no intention of mentioning the mortgage, she merely said, ‘Don’t you think you may be a little harsh? After all, you know as well as I of the concern she has for the estate.’

‘That may be the case but I doubt that Mr Carter shares my problem in conveying his opinions to her.’

Sir Charles’ disparaging tone discomfited her and before she knew what she was doing, she had risen to Mr Carter’s defence.

‘Mr Carter is her ladyship’s estate manager; it is his duty to inform her over what he considers as best for the future of Hanbury.’

‘Oh, that is quite absurd. I doubt that Harry Gregson has anything to do with the future of Hanbury,’ said Sir Charles, appearing much riled on the subject. ‘A shilling indeed. Does he not think it an extravagance to bestow such a thing on such a boy? Is he so blind that he cannot see where Lady Ludlow’s shilling goes, that is to say, into the hands of that wastrel Job Gregson?’

‘If that is of any concern, you need not trouble yourself on that account for I believe that Mr Carter personally pays Harry for his assistance.’

‘That is irrelevant. As far as I can see, Mr Carter is becoming impertinent. He has clearly forgotten his proper station here. I am surprised that you can even bring yourself to assist him, Laurentia, particularly when I was under the impression that you had a high regard for her ladyship.’

‘On the contrary, I believe one’s regard for Lady Ludlow can be expressed in different ways. You have your way, Charles, while Mr Carter and I have our own,’ she declared with more force than she had intended. Her anger could no longer be kept in check and this was not lost upon her listener.

‘Good God,’ said Sir Charles. ‘You sound as if you were betrothed to the man. Do not tell me that he has also ensnared you as well.’

Although possessed of a character which was not easily ruffled, his words and the way he had said them shocked her.

‘I have not been ‘ensnared’ as you put it and I have no intention of ever being so,’ she said coldly. ‘Now, please excuse me.’

She left Sir Charles looking after her in great astonishment but she did not care one whit of how she had appeared to him. She knew she must have appeared quite a sight as she all but stormed down to the refreshment tents but she needed to get away from him as quickly as possible.  But his words still lingered in her mind and acting very much against her character, she forced herself to listen to the inane conversation going on around her in an attempt to expel them. Her misery was however evident and soon she was attracting the kindly but unwanted attention of Miss Pole and Mrs Forrester and she had no choice but to walk about the grounds to escape them.

‘I’d wager that she and Mr Carter have had a disagreement,’ whispered Miss Pole and appearing much convinced on the matter.

‘But I saw him not five minutes ago speaking with that new gentleman near the lake.’

‘It is all a ruse, Mrs Forrester.’ Their attention was then caught by Dr Harrison to whom they offered their congratulations on his forthcoming marriage to Sophy Hutton.

The identity of the stranger Mr Carter had been speaking to was soon cleared up for within moments of leaving the tent, Miss Galindo and Mr Carter’s paths crossed once more.

‘Miss Galindo, are you quite well?’ he asked with some concern.

‘I am very well, thank you, Mr Carter,’ she replied, and this was true for she felt herself much calmed upon seeing him. At his side was a gentleman with whom he had been evidently speaking with.

Following her gaze, he said, ‘May I introduce an old friend of mine, Mr Robert Logue?’

‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Galindo,’ said Logue. He was a tall man with kind blue eyes but had the pale complexion of those who were of a sickly disposition.  

‘You are new to the town, I take it, Mr Logue?’

‘Oh, yes. I only arrived here three days ago and I appear to have garnered a great deal of interest in that time.’

‘This is Cranford, after all,’ said Mr Carter with sympathy. ‘But as I was saying, you should have sent word that you were coming down from Halifax – he is a teacher there, Miss Galindo, and a very good one as well.’

‘Too much praise, Carter,’ said Logue with a smile. ‘I _was_ a teacher and for twelve years I taught at the local Sunday school. But as of recent years, industrialisation has been increasing in Halifax and it has not entirely agreed with my health.’

‘I am sorry to hear that, Mr Logue. Perhaps in time Cranford will revive your spirits.’

‘I hope very much for the same. Mr Carter has spoken so highly of it in his letters, I confess I was dazzled by the prospect of moving to what appeared to be paradise on earth.’

His friend scoffed a little at this but was amused nonetheless.

‘Where are you living, Logue?’

‘In a house not far from Captain Brown’s.’

‘The Captain is an excellent man; you would do well to stand by him.’

Not wanting to intrude, Miss Galindo politely excused herself and went in search of a suitable place to sit. Finding a shaded spot under a tree, she took out her sketchbook. Though she considered herself to be no great draughtsman, there was a certain tranquillity of mind one could gain from sketching and that was something that she required now. Putting pencil to paper, she began to sketch but words from her heated exchange with Sir Charles distracted her and her thoughts wandered.

She did not dislike Sir Charles; they had after all been very close since childhood and she had always enjoyed his company. Although well-respected, she had few friends in Cranford owing to her complicated status as being the daughter of a baronet but engaged in trade as a milliner. It was unsurprising then that conversations with Sir Charles were often something to look forward to, particularly during Hanbury’s garden parties to which both he and she were always invited. There had been occasions close to the time when she had come of age when she felt that he had an interest in her which was more than that of a close friend but that had been nearly twenty years ago and nothing had become of it and he had left for the army soon afterwards.

But she did not regret it for she knew all too well how awkward her position in society was. Her being a baronet’s daughter made it impossible for any ordinary gentleman to propose to her while her trade barred all those of the gentry in considering her as a suitable wife and now that she was nearing forty, an age which all but confirmed spinsterhood, the thought of marriage was inconceivable, perhaps even ludicrous.

This did little to explain why he had so infuriated her this afternoon. She was used to his snobbism and his ideas regarding class and society and the tone of their past discussions upon the subject had rarely ventured past light disagreement. Therefore it was surprising that his comments today had had such a strong effect on her. She put it down to the dreadful way in which he had spoken of Mr Carter but even then, she knew that reason alone was not enough in explaining her conduct; especially when he had spoken those last words.

_‘You sound as if you were betrothed to the man. Do not tell me that he has also ensnared you as well.’_

Sir Charles was of course entirely wrong to assume that she had been, to use his vulgar turn of phrase, ensnared. However, she was not as certain about the first statement. It was not as though the thought of being betrothed to Mr Carter repelled her but once put into her head, the idea was startling but not disagreeable. They had not known each other well for more than a twelfth month and yet it was so obvious that her regard for him had increased so? She was a woman, as her ladyship had said, in possession of an independent spirit and had been so for most of her life – surely to contemplate marriage was entirely out of her character.

Her attempts at trying to convince herself of this were in vain for whenever she felt she was on the verge of success,  the look Mr Carter had given her as they prepared his last will and testament sprang unbidden once more within her mind and dashed all her thoughts to pieces.

‘Miss Galindo!’

Startled, she looked up and saw Harry running towards her.

‘Harry, what are you doing?’

He held out a bowl in his hands. ‘Ice cream,’ he said. ‘Mr Carter asked me to give this to you.’

Setting down her sketchbook, she took the bowl from him. ‘Thank you, Harry. Has Mr Carter decided that you aren’t to have ice cream this year?’

He looked about him, clearly hoping not to be overheard. ‘He says if I wait and come to his office later this afternoon, he’ll give me more than he did last year.’ His eyes glanced down at the sketchbook on her lap and he said, ‘That’s Mr Carter!’

She looked down with some confusion and realised that instead of sketching the scene before her, the drawing was now unmistakably that of Mr Carter. Had she been the type to blush, she would have blushed furiously.

After promising Miss Galindo that he would on no account tell Mr Carter of the drawing until it was completed, Harry returned to the tents below and she let out a sigh.

Perhaps Sir Charles had indeed been correct; she was hopelessly ensnared.


	6. A Gift from the Heart

_December 1843_

Summer turned into autumn and soon winter descended upon Cranford.

If Harry Gregson had been told last December that he was to be as content as he was now, he would have found it difficult to believe. His studies had continued uninterrupted for three months and the result of that was telling. Words and thoughts came more quickly now and he was reading avidly; books were both a source of knowledge and comfort and sometimes he would read stories to his siblings while his mother listened too, smiling at how far her son had progressed.

Job Gregson was unaware of the change in his son’s occupation. Mr Carter had intended to speak to Gregson about it but Harry persuaded him not to, assuring him that he would tell his father himself. He never got round to doing so for he knew that his father distrusted anything to do with the written word, believing that it was yet another weapon of the upper classes to suppress people like him.

‘Don’t believe in all that, boy,’ said his father one day when he had caught him reading and had roundly punished him for it. ‘They’re all liars and thieves and never earned an honest day’s wages in their lives. We’re the ones who work hard while they take it all away from us.’

‘But Mr Carter does honest work, Dada,’ said Harry quietly. ‘He manages the land for Lady Ludlow.’

‘Carter!’ snarled Gregson in contempt. ‘He’s the worst of them. Heard he’s of farming stock and if that’s true, he’s nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You keep away from him, lad.’

But Harry did not keep away from him and his father’s dislike of Mr Carter only strengthened his resolve to study harder. He wanted to prove that there was much good in what the educated classes did and he took heart from the fact that a man like Mr Carter, the son of a farmer, could achieve so much in the world. If he could manage it, Harry was certain that he could too.

*

As they neared Christmas, the temperature plummeted. The great lake at Hanbury Court froze over and the vast expanse of parkland was enveloped in a thick blanket of snow. The town had suffered a similar fate and it was a common sight to see Jem Hearne and several of the younger men of Cranford shovelling snow off the streets.

‘My first Christmas in Cranford, Carter, and I must say there is certainly a real sense of community here,’ said Mr Logue as he looked out of the window of his house. It was the morning before Christmas Eve and the men outside had just finished their work and Martha Hearne and Miss Matty along with Miss Smith had ventured out into the cold, heavily wrapped up in an assortment of scarves and cloaks, to offer them tea.

‘It wouldn’t be Cranford if there wasn’t,’ replied Mr Carter.

‘I can see why you’re so attached to the place as well as Hanbury. Is that why you never returned to Yorkshire?’

‘I suppose it was. There was a time after Sarah died when I thought about taking your advice to buy a farm and return home only to realise that Hanbury was my home and had been for so long. I only wonder why it took me so long to realise it.’

‘These things often come to us without our knowing of it. I’m still sorry to hear about Sarah. She was a good woman and much too young to die.’

Carter nodded and became silent for a while. Then he said, ‘I’m surprised a man like you hasn’t married yet.’

‘With my tendency to fall ill, I doubt I would make a good husband. The poor dear would have to wait on me night and day; it is not a life I would like to inflict on anyone. No, no, in my mind, a woman needs to be taken care of and certainly not the other way round.’

‘I would keep those remarks to yourself, Logue, if you wish to be safe from the wrath of the ladies of Cranford.’

‘Miss Galindo would not be happy, I know,’ replied Logue. ‘Only the other day, she upbraided me for my old-fashioned ideas which in retrospect I think I probably deserved.’ He turned towards his friend and said, ‘The two of you get on marvellously well though.’

There was a look in Logue’s eyes which Carter recognised and which he did not entirely like.

‘You look uneasy.’

‘Only because you look as if you’d like to say something,’ countered Carter, his voice wary.

‘You know me too well,’ smiled Logue and returned to his chair opposite. He studied his friend a little before saying, ‘Well, as we are on the subject of marriage, I wonder whether you ever considered marrying again.’

Soon after Logue’s arrival in Cranford, he had heard much of the gossip circulating around his friend and Miss Galindo and three months of observation had been enough to tell him that there was a great deal of truth in the statements of Miss Pole and Company. Logue confessed that he was no expert in matters of the heart. After all, he was at eight and thirty still a bachelor but he knew what mutual attraction was when he saw it and it was utterly undeniable in the case of Mr Carter and Miss Galindo. He had observed on occasions how Carter had looked after her as she hurried down King Street, his eyes lingering for a moment too long upon her retreating figure while it did not escape his notice that Miss Galindo’s customary reserve all but vanished whenever his friend made his appearance.

In many ways, they were well-suited to each other. Both were intelligent, independent not to mention lonely and it was clear that they enjoyed being in each other’s company. The only problem was that two such lonely and intelligent souls hardly knew how to go about letting their feelings be known to the other. Carter, he knew by long experience, was a gruff man by nature even more so since he had become a widower. As for the independent Miss Galindo, he could only imagine how unfamiliar and difficult it was for her. Showing her peppery temper was one thing; expressing one’s heart was quite another.

Thus faced with such a situation, Logue had set upon bringing the both of them together but he had underestimated the difficulty of the task he had set himself if Carter’s reply was anything to go by.

‘I’ve never considered it,’ said Carter, grimacing a little. His false leg was causing him a little discomfort in the cold weather and he shifted a little in his chair. ‘As far as I’m concerned, I’m married to Lady Ludlow’s estate.’

‘Oh, how awfully unromantic,’ sighed Logue.

‘You forget that I was never a romantic in the first place.’

‘Is that so? So I gather that giving flowers to a certain lady cannot be described as such.’

He thought he saw Carter’s normally collected features break a little at this. Within seconds however, he had regained his composure and clearing his throat, he said,

‘Logue, you know better than to listen to ladies’ tittle-tattle. Whatever you’ve heard regarding Miss Galindo and myself is entirely unsubstantiated.’

‘Ah, but you forget that I never mentioned that the lady was Miss Galindo,’ replied his friend, leaping upon the opportunity. ‘I’ve caught you, Carter. You cannot deny that you have formed an attachment to her. Come now, you cannot be ignorant of what the whole of Cranford is thinking.’

If he had thought that this would have broken down Carter’s defences, he was disappointed. Carter set down his cup of tea and rose to his feet. ‘How fortunate I am. I came here to give tidings of the season and in return I get cross-examined by my oldest friend,’ he said ironically but not without good humour. He glanced at the wall clock. ‘Well, I must be going as it is getting late.’

Logue raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s only eleven.’

‘Good bye, Logue,’ sighed Carter as he moved into the hall and retrieved his hat and stick. ‘I’ll let myself out, shall I?’

Logue joined him at this point and opened the door for him.

‘Merry Christmas, old fellow’, said Logue and added in a more serious tone, ‘It was very good of you to visit and the hamper is much appreciated.’

‘A Merry Christmas to you too, Logue. Enjoy the hamper; it’s the best of what we managed to get out of the harvest this year. And thank you for the book,’ said Carter, holding up a wrapped up parcel.

An enigmatic smile was all he received in reply which made him suspicious as to the contents of his present. His instinct was proved correct for when he finally opened the parcel in his office he was greeted with the sight of a volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets and with a note written in his friend’s sloping hand:

_To be read to a certain dark lady._

_R.L._

Carter sighed. ‘Damned nerve.’   

*




Regardless of what he wanted to think, Carter’s conversation with Logue had had an effect on him. He tried to distract himself soon afterwards, taking long walks across the grounds before the snow caused havoc with his false leg and he had no choice but to return to the warmth and safety of his cottage where his thoughts simply multiplied in both strength and number. Adding to his concern over Lady Ludlow’s mortgage, he had now another more personal matter to consider.

As for the mortgage, the past three months had been unpromising. With the year’s appalling harvest adding to Hanbury’s already declining profitability, there was little he could do in the way of supplying material to the railway and though he detested the factories, he also tried his connections in Halifax but to no avail. Ten years had taught him a great deal in managing accounts but this mortgage had taken him completely unawares and he could do nothing but watch her ladyship’s lands sink deeper into the mire. Hanbury’s only hope, he thought grimly to himself, was to pray that the next year’s harvest was a better one.

Despair rarely took him but occasionally his thoughts dwelt upon whether it would have been better had he perished. If he had, his fortune of twenty thousand pounds would have gone to Harry and Lady Ludlow would have had a means of settling the mortgage. He had thought seriously of offering it to her but he knew that her ladyship’s great sense of pride would have meant a refusal of his money outright. His hastily written up will had been the only feasible way in which to persuade her to accept it but even that idea had been defeated by his survival.

His morbid thoughts gave way to the sense of embarrassment he felt every time he remembered how he had acted in front of Miss Galindo that day. Death had been so terribly near and he had for one moment in his weakened state of mind looked at her in a way that only his wife had known of. He had thought she would be outraged at his forwardness but she had done nothing of the sort. Instead her hand had taken a tighter hold over his as he struggled to sign his name, her lip trembling a little – it was moment that he would never forget.

It was perhaps then, unbeknownst to him, that the seed of love was planted and the past half year had merely served to let it blossom. During these past six months, they had grown to know each other better and as they did so, his esteem for her had increased.

Now he found it difficult to imagine going through a day without speaking to her or to share thoughts on this matter or other. They had had their share of disagreements but he valued her opinions regardless. Just being in her presence seemed to be enough to content him and when she had been obliged to tend to her business for a week in November, it had felt like the longest week in his life.

He remarked early during his convalescence that she was one of the most remarkable women of his acquaintance and he had meant it although at the time, he did not know in what direction he was heading in with that comment. He knew now that even then he had probably been in deeper water than he had realised.  Love for the second time in his life had crept upon him again and this time, it had taken him ludicrously long to fully realise it.

However there was now the issue of the local gossip. Logue’s knowledge of his interactions with Miss Galindo had undoubtedly startled him. If a newcomer like Logue had heard rumours that he was courting her, the whole town must have been convinced of it for much longer. It was all very well if such things were flying about if they were indeed courting but when such a thing had never happened, it was impossible. He was prompted to recall a quote from Austen which on this occasion did not give him much pleasure.

_‘A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.’_

He would therefore have to rectify the situation and speak with her as soon as he could.

*

 Although she had no particular fondness for Christmas, Miss Galindo did enjoy the peace which came with it. With the ladies of Cranford and in particular, the Honourable Mrs Jamieson – who she could not stand despite her being probably her best customer – busy with gatherings, dinners and other festive activities, her millinery was quiet and though it did not do her already limited means any good, she relished the solitude.

Thus on Christmas afternoon, she was surprised to hear a knock on her parlour door and her surprise turned into astonishment when she saw Mr Carter entering the room.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Galindo.’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Carter,’ said Miss Galindo, putting away her sewing. He looked unusually ill at ease and when moments went by in which neither of them spoke, she remarked at last, ‘I assume that you’re not here to purchase a hat.’

‘No,’ he replied, smiling a little. ‘Your assumption is correct.’

‘Is there something amiss at Hanbury?’ she asked when they had seated themselves and Miss Galindo had prepared tea.

‘Oh, no. Nothing of the kind. All is in quite in order. I do hope that I have not disturbed you.’

‘Not at all. As you know, I have no family and few friends in Cranford so Christmas is always a quiet time.’

‘As is the case with me,’ said Mr Carter in agreement.

‘I have to thank you, Mr Carter, for the sketchbook you gave me,’ she said, recalling the exquisite, leather-bound sketchbook which had been delivered to her the day before. She had been much delighted with it and had been touched by his thoughtfulness.

‘You’re very welcome. I recalled that you were fond of sketching and thought that it might please you. Perhaps one day you might show me some of your work.’

‘Perhaps,’ she replied. _Though perhaps not the drawing of you, Mr Carter_ , she thought to herself. No, she would on no account reveal that to him unless…but no, it would never happen. The very thought of him courting her was impossible.

‘Well, I gather that you did not pay me a visit to merely discuss my artistic pursuits, Mr Carter,’ she said at length.

‘No, I did not. In truth, I came to discuss a more serious and personal matter.’

‘A personal matter?’ she echoed.

‘Yes. Moreover it concerns – it concerns you, Miss Galindo. And to some extent, myself.’

His obvious discomfort was doing nothing for her nerves which had suddenly decided to make their presence felt. Afraid of spilling her tea, she set it down.

‘Indeed?’ she said, and she heard a slight tremor in her voice.

Mr Carter continued, ‘The other day I was at Mr Logue’s and our discussion covered various things which I will not trouble you with. You may have observed during these past few months, Miss Galindo, that my friend is an acute listener.’

She nodded. Robert Logue was a perceptive man and nothing could escape him.

‘You can therefore imagine what I felt when he began to speak about – forgive me if I speak plainly – what the locals knew about us.’

Blinking a little at what she felt to be an anti-climax, she said, ‘Surely that is no secret, Mr Carter. I imagine that the whole of Cranford by now knows that Lady Ludlow has assigned me to help you with Hanbury’s affairs.’

‘That I believe is only the tip of the iceberg, Miss Galindo.’ There was now such an intensity in his blue eyes that even she could not fail to perceive what he was hinting at.

‘Oh,’ she murmured, comprehension dawning upon her. ‘You mean –’

‘I believe that for the past half year, everyone has been under the impression that I have been courting you.’

‘Good heavens.’

‘Does this offend you?’

‘I – ’ she started but stopped herself when she saw that he was watching her very closely. Her next words had to be chosen extremely carefully.

‘I cannot deny that I am astonished at the news but no, I am not offended by it.’

He turned his head a little to one side as if puzzled by her answer. ‘You’re not offended?’

‘Would you like me to be?’

‘Indeed I do not.’ He had expected an outburst of emotion, perhaps an absolute denial of how ridiculous it all was but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined her to take the news so…easily.

Meanwhile, Miss Galindo wondered why he had decided to inform her of this. Mr Carter was a man of purpose and rarely did he do anything without a reason in mind. As she considered all the various possibilities, there was now a very real fear in her mind that he had come bearing this news with the intention of distancing himself from her, perhaps even to put an end to their friendship once and for all. He had never struck her as a man concerned with reputation but with the likes of Lord Septimus and Sir Charles surrounding her, nothing would have surprised her. Thus she steeled herself emotionally for the possible avalanche which was about to descend.

‘What do you propose to do, Mr Carter?’

‘Do?’

‘Well, this evidently is of some concern to you or you would not have come to see me this afternoon.’

He looked into his cup, gathering his thoughts for a few moments before setting it aside.

‘Miss Galindo, ever since my recovery, you have been a constant presence for which I thank you for. Had it not been for your help, I can only imagine how we would all be now. We have become good friends, I hope, during this past year.’

She nodded in agreement, but she was waiting to hear what he was going to say next.

‘Recently however, I have discovered that friendship alone is not enough in describing my regard for you and I feel that I have a closer kinship to you than I had previously believed. I – ’

‘Mr Carter,’ interrupted Miss Galindo, unable to hold her peace for much longer. ‘If you feel that you are under an obligation to say this to safeguard our reputations, I would rather than you didn’t. I have been alone these nearly forty years and I would prefer to continue to be so than to live a lie.’

As soon as she said this, she knew that she had made a terrible mistake for he looked positively affronted.

‘I assure you, Miss Galindo, that what I say is meant with the utmost sincerity,’ he said and she winced at the sudden coldness in his voice. ‘Even if I had not spoken with Logue, I would have spoken to you as I have done so now. However if you feel that this displeases you, I will duly remove myself from here.’

‘No, please, stay,’ she said when he made to rise from his chair. ‘I’m sorry, this has all happened very quickly I do not know what to make of it all.’

His expression softened.

‘I take it then that my words are not unwelcome to you,’ he said, a glimmer of hope entering his voice.

She looked up at that, brown eyes meeting the blue.

‘Not wholly unwelcome,’ she admitted and her breath caught when he suddenly moved forward and took one of her hands in his.

‘I had hopes that you would come to care for me as I did you,’ he said quietly. ‘But I never imagined that you felt the same way.’

‘Neither did I. Perhaps it is our curse that the both of us possess characters which prevent us from easily expressing what we truly feel.’

‘Even if that may be the case, I would not change your character for the world.’

She smiled at that, still hardly believing that this was happening.

‘You once said that you believed that your presence did not please me,’ he said at length. ‘That I confess was true but only at the beginning. Nothing could be further than the truth for now I find that your presence pleases me very much. So much so that I believe that my life would be incomplete without it.’

The awkwardness in his voice was evident. Other gentlemen would have been more fluent in expressing their emotions but no one could have matched the sincerity in Edward Carter’s voice when he said simply, ‘Laurentia, will you marry me?’

The answer was given without a moment’s hesitation.                              




‘Yes.’


	7. A New Year

The year eighteen forty-four thus began like no other for Miss Laurentia Galindo. Had she been asked to foretell last January the events of the past twelve months, she would have had great difficulty in doing so. In the past half year alone there had been sudden deaths, terrible accidents and a myriad of engagements and she had unexpectedly found herself included in the latter group for she was now a woman betrothed.

After Mr Carter’s visit that day, she had gone to bed that night, her mind still reeling from the events of that afternoon. What she had never expected to happen had happened and if he had been surprised at the outcome of their meeting, she had been even more so. She had accepted his proposal – impromptu and sudden as it was – in a likewise manner. It might have been regarded as flippant, after all, she really had no idea how such things were supposed to be played out, but she had meant it with all her heart and he had seen that immediately. She recalled how an expression of total delight had entered his face as she said that single ‘yes’ and it secretly thrilled her to know that she alone had been the cause of it.

Regardless of the certain joy there was in being betrothed, this did not mean that their relationship transformed overnight. Both had agreed that not a word of their engagement was to be let out to the town until later and from outward appearances, they continued as they always did, not for one moment hinting that in fact something momentous had occurred.

Although the period between Christmas and the New Year was a quiet time for the both of them, they each had their own duties to fulfil and apart from a glimpse of each other during the Boxing Day service, it was not until the end of the first week of January that they had the chance of speaking with each other again.

It was a bright wintry afternoon when she had been making her way across the parkland when a voice had called out to her.

‘Miss Galindo!’

Stopping in her tracks, she saw him emerging from the trees to her right, hat upon his head and his walking stick gripped tightly in his hand.

‘Mr Carter, I was just on my way to see you,’ she said as he made her way towards her. ‘I trust you had a good start to the New Year?’

‘Indeed I did. I trust you had the same?’

‘I did, thank you.’

‘That is good to hear.’ There was an odd look on his face as he was uncertain on how to proceed. It was a little bewildering to see him appearing flummoxed in front of her when he had not been so before.

‘It is still a little early,’ he said at length. ‘I had intended to go for a walk about the grounds before returning to the office and the weather is very fine for walking. Would you care to join me?’

‘Gladly,’ she replied and he proffered his arm which she took.

‘I am sorry for appearing a little stiff,’ he said, when they began to walk together. ‘It’s very stupid of me to be so. It has been so long since I was betrothed, I appear to have forgotten what to do. No doubt you’re longing for the return of my old cantankerous self.’

‘Cantankerous would be a little extreme,’ she replied with a little smile. ‘But I can hardly call myself well-versed in matters of betrothal so the both of us may perhaps be excused. Seeing however that we _are_ betrothed, perhaps we should begin to act accordingly?’

‘Very well. Do you have any suggestions?’

‘Well, addressing each other by our first names would be a start, at least in private. There are of course no strict rules regarding this but I think it may be considered a little eccentric if we choose not to.’

There was an amused sparkle in her dark eyes and he could not help but marvel at the ineptitude he had displayed so far.  He was far from being what a proper fiancé should be and what made it more incredible was that he had already once been both a fiancé and husband in his life.

‘If you wish, Laurentia. I only feared that if I did so I would have given you a greater shock than that I gave you for Christmas.’

‘A shock undoubtedly, yes, but certainly the best kind, Edward.’

‘Edward,’ she said again after a while, unused to saying his first name. ‘It is a common name.’

‘I’m a fairly common man.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,’ she replied quickly, fearing that she had offended him but was soothed by the fact that he was smiling and she was struck at how a smile transformed his features entirely. She had hardly dared to think of him as anything else as merely Mr Carter until his proposal that it was only when they were now on such intimate terms that she could really appreciate how it brightened his countenance, the smile lighting up his blue eyes that he looked almost handsome.

‘My father didn’t have a great deal of imagination when it came to naming his sons,’ he explained. ‘All rather solid, perhaps dull names: Thomas, Richard and Edward. But he was a faithful man and I think it must have had an effect for I gather my brothers were named after Thomas Becket and Richard of Chichester. As for me, I believe I was named after Edward the Confessor. Whether or not we’ve managed to live up to our imposing namesakes, I have yet to determine.’ He turned to her, his eyes enquiring. ‘Yours is not common, of that I am certain.’

‘Of that you are quite right. But as far as I know, there was never had any purpose behind it, apart from being rather grandiose. My father often had a weakness for such things and I suppose it even reflected in the choice of name for his only daughter.’

‘I hardly think it grandiose. Its uniqueness fits you perfectly.’

Unable to think of anything to say to this, she instead tightened her hold of his arm affectionately.

‘Do you intend to speak to Lady Ludlow?’

‘In due course,’ he replied. ‘I have not yet decided when would be a suitable time. She has kept to herself these past two weeks and I have not seen her of late. But I think it would be good if we have some time to ourselves before we set the whole town agog.’

‘Yes, the more we are able to delay Miss Pole and Mrs Forrester storming into my parlour the better.’

‘I can imagine that very well,’ he chuckled as he envisaged the scene. ‘You will not have need of that parlour for much longer; that I promise.’

‘So you intend to deprive me of my independence, Mr Carter?’ she asked in a light-hearted tone.

‘Indeed I do not, Miss Galindo,’ he answered in kind. ‘The decision rests with you, of course. But as I recall, a lady once sat in my office last year and declared openly that she did not long to stitch caps and sew feathers onto bonnets.’

She looked at him abashed and murmured, ‘I was perhaps too hard on you that afternoon. It shames me a little to think how ill-mannered I was towards you in the past. I fear I might have irked you a great deal.’

‘I think the both of us are guilty in that respect; I myself was not particularly welcoming when you first appeared in my office. But truth be told, I would not have you otherwise. Society offered you little opportunity and yet you persevered.’

‘Once again you make my achievements sound more impressive than they really are.’

‘I think I cannot praise your achievements enough.’

They walked a little longer in companionable silence, contented with the other’s presence and the feeling of her gloved hand on his arm and vice versa. When at last the path they took became too deep with snow and made it difficult for them to continue, they headed back towards the house. As they weaved through the trees, they saw through them the lake which was still frozen over, the grounds surrounding it completely enveloped in white. Here they stopped awhile as her bootlaces had come undone.

‘It is an impressive sight, is it not?’ he remarked, his gaze fixed on the lake. ‘Lady Ludlow admires Hanbury most in August but there is always something quite enchanting about it in winter –’

Something cold and white landed hard on his shoulder.

‘What the devil?’

He turned round, preparing a harsh reprimand for whoever was hurling snowballs at him only to realise that it was Miss Galindo.

‘I’m sorry, Edward,’ she said. She did not look sorry in the least and she could not help laughing a little at how dumbfounded he looked. ‘The temptation was much too difficult to resist.’

‘Laurentia,’ he said slowly. ‘I never thought for one moment that throwing snowballs would be a pastime of yours.’

‘I don’t normally make it one but you were quite the unsuspecting target.’

‘An easy one to be certain, a man with a wooden leg is obviously your first target of choice. And who also happens to be your fiancé. I thought I would receive at least some modicum of sympathy,’ he replied before scooping up a handful of snow and throwing one of his own in retaliation. It missed her completely but within minutes, snow was flying about and if anyone was walking through the woodland at that moment, they would have heard soft laughter and be astonished at the sight of them taking cover behind trees as they attempted to get out of the other’s line of sight.

‘I wonder what Harry would think if we entered your office like this,’ she wondered aloud when they finally stopped, their clothes peppered with snow and their faces flushed from both the cold and exertion.

‘He would clearly think us out of our minds. Come, there is a fire lit in my cottage where we may dry ourselves a little before we return.’

‘You don’t mind, Edward?’ she asked, a vestige of hesitancy in her voice.

‘Mind? Why should I mind? Unless, of course, you require a chaperone,’ he replied with an enquiring look.

She shook her head. ‘Not at all.’

A ten minute walk found them in front of his cottage. She confessed to herself that she had always been curious as to where he lived away from his office and here she was at last. It was smaller than she imagined it would be; ivy grew on one side of the house which was built entirely out of dark and weathered brick but it as well as the rest of the house was well-kept and in good order. Another house similar in design but considerably larger was located nearby and she asked why he hadn’t chosen that one.

‘Lady Ludlow offered it to me when I became her estate manager but I declined. That house is big enough for a family of six and since there were only two of us at the time, I said it would be better to give it to those who needed it more than I did.’ He paused as he unlocked the door. ‘Which is just as well since I’m the only one left now. Come inside and out of the cold.’

He took her coat and bonnet and shrugged off his own coat and hat before directing her into the sitting room where a fire had been lit in the grate.

‘I will go and make some tea,’ he murmured and disappeared into the kitchen.

She looked about the room, comforted by the cosiness of her surroundings. Like his office, it was practical with everything within reach. Several volumes of novels and other works lay in a pile next to his chair by the fireplace. She thumbed casually through them, reading the titles before catching the glimpse of a small miniature on the mantelpiece, that of the late Sarah Carter. The painting was not the best of miniatures but even that could not detract from the fact that she had been a very pretty young woman with fair hair and blue eyes.

‘I hope you’ll excuse how small it all is,’ he said as he re-entered the room, a tea tray in his hands. ‘I keep a rather modest house and with only myself here, I don’t have need for a housekeeper.’

‘I think it’s wonderful,’ she said and as he seated himself opposite her, she was momentarily distracted by the sight of him in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat and was thankful that her slight blush was hidden by the glow of the fire. How silly it was that she had spent nearly her whole life quite indifferent to gentlemen only to be captivated by the simplest of things as she was now!

‘Is the fire warm enough?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes. So this is your home away from your work?’

‘Yes. Well, as good a home as I can manage; it lacks a lady’s care and attention, I know. Sarah was much better at such things, I can only imagine what her reaction might be at its condition now.’

‘Was she very young when she died?’

‘She had only turned six and twenty. There was a terrible outbreak of typhoid at Hanbury five summers ago. Within a week, thirty men, women and children alike suffered and died from it. Disease is rarely seen on the estate and the both of us were startled and alarmed at the development. We then went amongst the sick to help them as well as to find the cause of the outbreak but in the end, it was in vain. Soon after, Sarah contracted it and I proceeded to do everything to care for her only to be struck down with it as well. It was only four days after I was out of danger that Dr Morgan informed me that she had died.’

‘I’m so sorry, Edward,’ she said, tears welling in her eyes. She could well imagine the anguish he must have felt and it affected her greatly.

He bowed his head, haunted by the memory that he had failed his duty as a husband. ‘I am sorry for her; I was unable to be at her side when she died. I always wonder what her last thoughts were of me.’

‘I have no doubt they were the best. You did all that you could for her and no good husband could have done more than you did.’

He smiled up at her at that. As she sat there by the fire, her features illuminated by the flickering and vibrant light, the words he had been intending to say vanished and were replaced with a great desire to show his thankfulness in a more intimate manner.

‘Should we attempt to return to the house?’ he said, glancing at the clock which now read a quarter to two.

‘Oh, good heavens, yes. Harry must be wondering what has become of us.’

They rose to their feet only for her to be gently caught up in his arms as they did so. She looked at him, her expression one of complete surprise but it disappeared when she saw the look in his eyes; one of earnest gratitude and appreciation. If any vestige of womanly outrage pulsed in her, it did not make its presence known to her as she relished the warmth and safety of his embrace.

They looked at each other for a long time until something told them that their staring must have a practical end. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

‘Edward?’ she said after a moment of delicious silence when she had managed to recover her senses.

‘Yes, Laurentia?’

‘Is that now your way of showing your appreciation?’

‘Does it vex you?’

She smiled. ‘If you please, Mr Carter, if you could vex me just one more time before we leave, I would be quite content.’

‘Your wish is my command, Miss Galindo.’


	8. On Love and Duty

Lady Ludlow rose from her chair to look out of her study window, ignoring the pain in her bones as she stood, leaning heavily on her stick. The pain had increased recently and there had been days when it was simply impossible to leave her bed. Despite this, she refused to consult a doctor; it was nothing more than rheumatism aggravated by the cold air.

Her eyes gazed upon the grounds below, recalling with a pang of nostalgia how long ago her children once played there in the snow, the sound of their laughter filling her ears. Her reserved character had meant that she never participated in their games and as the years went by, it was a constant source of regret for her for she could never again hold them in her arms or to speak to them. Septimus alone was the sole surviving child but he even he was far away in Italy and sometimes she thought it had perhaps been wrong of her to persuade him to go abroad for his Grand Tour. Throughout much of his youth, he had always harboured a dislike for the Continent or in fact, any country other than England and he had nothing but scorn for anyone who wasn’t an Englishman.

He had however given in to his mother’s suggestions and had dutifully set off for Europe when he came of age. When she received letters that he had been delighted by what he found there, she was much pleased by the development. What she had not foreseen was the slow decline of their once relatively close bond. His steady flow of letters ceased, reduced to only a trickle of correspondence to not more than three letters a year, more often than not asking for more funds to be sent to him in Italy, the country in which he had decided to settle on account of his health. Mr Carter, she knew, was unsympathetic in this respect. He and Septimus had met only once when the latter had last visited Hanbury four years ago for Christmas and though Mr Carter had endeavoured not to show it for her sake, it did not escape her that he had been much unimpressed with her son.

Mothers know nearly everything about their children and she knew better than anyone that Septimus had his faults. Her motherly duty to treat him as her main priority in life however always overrode other considerations and now perhaps to her great cost. Mr Carter in his annual report summarising the condition of her estate had cautiously suggested that if the harvests were good this year, Hanbury could expect to see an improvement in its precarious situation. She had however little hopes for this and resigned herself to the fact that she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

In view of her sad outcome of her only son, she was understandably thankful when it came to how another child had turned out. Laurentia was not her daughter but she had brought her up as if she were. Their stations in society were not equal but and although she did not show it, she always had an interest in her welfare. Her situation being what it was, Laurentia was never an attractive prospect for a possible husband and the years went by, her survival made possible by her own endeavour and independence of spirit which Lady Ludlow greatly admired. But every so often, she wished for a good gentleman to come her way and propose to her. Little did she know that the prospective husband would be her very own estate manager.

He was not a gentleman, that was indisputable, but Lady Ludlow, sensitive as she was to social rank and station, made an exception for Mr Carter. Ten years had taught her the worthiness and reliability of the man and she could do nothing but approve of Laurentia’s choice. She had already seen the change in dynamics between them after his accident as he recuperated at Hanbury but she deliberately avoided playing any part in their budding relationship, preferring to observe and await the outcome.

Then at the beginning of February, he requested an audience with her, writing that it was a personal matter. Her curiosity piqued, she assented to his request and received him in her study.

‘Mr Carter, I trust that this is a matter of some importance,’ she said when he entered the room.

He bowed. ‘I apologise if I have caused you any inconvenience, my lady.’

‘There is none to speak of.  Now what is it that you wish to speak to me about?’

He appeared to consider his next words carefully but his voice betrayed no hesitation when he said, ‘Lady Ludlow, I come seeking your consent to marry Miss Galindo.’

Mr Carter’s natural directness was sometimes breathtaking and in this case, none more so and it took her a few moments for his words to sink in.

Mistaking her silence for disapproval, he continued, ‘I assure you that Miss Galindo knows of my intentions. She and I have recently reached an understanding, my lady, after my proposal of marriage was accepted at Christmas.’

‘Christmas?’ she echoed. Laurentia had been engaged for over a month and only now was she able to hear of it! However she was not surprised at the quietness, almost clandestine nature of their proceedings; neither of them liked to attract attention.

‘Yes.’

‘Mr Carter, please sit down.’

Although slightly taken aback at her request, he duly did so. To be allowed to sit in her presence when one was not indisposed was almost unheard of.

Her dark eyes studied him a while and said, ‘You may not be aware of this but Laurentia is very dear to me. Lord Ludlow and I took her in and raised her as our own when she was but an orphan of eleven. Of course, she came of age many years ago and she is thus free to make her own choices. ’

‘She has informed me of the fact, my lady, which I must admit was the reason why I thought it best to seek your permission,’ he replied, wondering in which direction their conversation was heading. If the answer was to be in the negative, he preferred to have it now than to prolong the tension.

Perhaps some of the uneasiness showed in his eyes for she said, ‘You must not mistake my meaning. I only say this because as you are fully aware, none of my nine children have ever entered the sacred state of matrimony, either because they could not – or they choose not to.’ Her gaze travelled a little wistfully to the grounds outside. Her expression said everything and Mr Carter’s jaw clenched a little as it always did whenever he thought of Lord Septimus.

‘Therefore for Laurentia to do so,’ she said, her attention in spite of her maturity and her independence, is a matter of considerable importance to me.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. Any responsible guardian would feel the same.’

‘I thank you for your understanding.’

‘If there is any doubt about my finances, I assure you that you have no need to do so in that regard. I would be more than able to provide her with a comfortable home and to see to best of my ability that she lives and is treated in the way that she deserves.’

‘Mr Carter, I know very well what a fine husband you made for the late Sarah Bolton. I did, as you may recall, sanction that particular marriage as well,’ she said a little wryly. ‘No, I have no doubt that you will once again be an admirable and dutiful husband. But you must understand that it is my custom to listen to all parties involved before reaching a decision, especially in so delicate a matter as this. Therefore I hope you will not take offence if I speak to Laurentia privately before giving you my answer.’

‘My lady –’

‘If you could inform her that I would like to see her this afternoon, I would be most grateful.’

His face fell a little. ‘Yes, my lady.’

He rose from his chair, bowed and left the room. Lady Ludlow looked after him, well aware of the disappointment she had caused him. If Mr Carter doubted what her answer would be, he needn’t have worried for it was to be a ‘yes’ in any case. However as always, duty was uppermost in her mind and she would not fail in her duty in learning where exactly Laurentia stood in the whole matter. After all, these things had to be dealt with thoroughly.

*

After Roberts had taken her things, Laurentia Galindo made her way to the drawing room at Hanbury Court, wearing an expression of great apprehension. Her mind still dwelt on the look on Edward’s face when she had greeted both him and Harry in the office earlier that afternoon.

‘Harry, stay here and continue with your work. I need to speak with Miss Galindo,’ he said, rising from his desk.

‘Yes, Mr Carter.’

Harry turned his attention to the ledger in front of him and Edward gestured to her to follow him.

‘Edward, is there something the matter?’ she asked with some concern when they were outside.

‘It is nothing, Laurentia,’ he replied. ‘It is only that this morning I went to speak with Lady Ludlow.’

‘Oh?’

When it was clear that she was waiting for him to continue, he said, ‘I told her of our engagement and asked for her consent.’

‘And what was her answer?’ she asked. It was a foolish question, she knew, for Edward’s expression was more than enough to tell her that it was certainly not a ‘yes’ but it had to be asked.

He sighed. ‘She said she would like to speak with you before coming to a decision.’

He appeared so dejected that after quickly glancing round to see if anyone was looking, she kissed him on the cheek.

‘Better?’ she asked, looking up at him and pleased to see that the melancholy in his eyes had abated a little.

‘Hmm. I would have liked it more had you kissed me somewhere else.’

‘You wicked man.’ Her expression and voice turned serious. ‘I’m certain that it is only a formality, Edward,’ she said consolingly.

‘I hope very much that it is so.’

‘Did Lady Ludlow mention when she’d like to see me?’

‘She is waiting to see you now in fact.’

And so she had gone to the house, wondering what was in store for her. As she had told Edward, she believed it was only a formality and that it was only her ladyship’s way of doing things. However as she neared the drawing room, she grew less certain and by the time the doors had opened and she saw that elegant, upright figure sitting on the settee, she was completely drained of any confidence  in the matter.

‘Laurentia,’ said Lady Ludlow.

‘Lady Ludlow,’ said Laurentia, curtsying.

The older woman rang the bell for the butler and when the latter appeared, she said, ‘Roberts, bring some tea for Miss Galindo and myself.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Only when tea had been prepared and the both of them were alone that her ladyship began to speak.

‘I believe Mr Carter has told you of the reason why I have asked you to come here this afternoon. He informs me that he asked you to be his wife.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you have accepted him?’

‘Yes, I have. Does this displease you?’

‘From your tone, I imagine that Mr Carter took my reaction this morning rather badly and it has affected you in turn.’

‘He imagines the worst,’ she admitted. ‘I have never seen him so melancholy; it is quite disconcerting.’

‘Well, you can inform him that he does not need to for his fears are quite unnecessary.’

‘Quite unnecessary?’ repeated Laurentia, hoping that she had not misheard. ‘Does that mean he has your consent?’

‘I would have given it to him this morning but I confess I wished to speak to you first.’ In answer to her unspoken question, she added, ‘It is clear that your concern for him surpasses mere friendship, Laurentia.’

‘My lady –’

‘I can see it in your eyes, my dear, and the way you look at him,’ explained her ladyship.

Uncharacteristically lost for words, she allowed Lady Ludlow to continue.

‘For many years, I have been unable to give you the care and attention that your own parents should have given you.’

‘Oh, please do not think me ungrateful –’

‘It is true that Lord Ludlow and I raised you as one of our own but that is hardly the same. You were always so independent; that is one of your great strengths and I have had little need to offer you guidance over the years as a result. But seeing that you plan to embark on one of the most important stages of a woman’s life, I hope that you will not object to my giving some now.

‘It is in the nature of all women to take pity on men who they deem as vulnerable. We cannot help it; it is engrained so deeply in us and although I am aware that Mr Carter will not appreciate this, he is a man scarred by loss and suffering and some ladies will doubtless find an attraction in that and not a healthy one in the least.’ She saw the expression on the younger woman’s face and added, ‘But I see that you are not one of them.’

‘I am not so easily beguiled, my lady, but I confess that I pitied him after the accident,’ said Laurentia, her mind recalling how terrible it was to behold such a man seemingly cut down in his prime. ‘Everyone with any fragment of human feeling would have felt the same.’

‘But was it love, Laurentia?’

The question was straightforward and yet it was suddenly so difficult to answer. Had she already been in love with him before that terrible day? Or had the days of continued dread and anxiety when he had been in danger merely feelings felt by a close friend and nothing more? Harry too had been terribly worried by his condition and so had Lady Ludlow, thus had her feelings been only a part of a shared phenomena? Pity was akin to love, they said, but was it really the same thing?

‘I am not certain,’ she admitted. ‘I only remember those dreadful days as those which I hope never to repeat again.’ _And living in constant fear that each day was to be his last._

‘I see. You were relieved then when you heard that he was out of danger?’

‘So was everyone else, I believe.’

‘Just because people feel the same thing does not necessarily mean that they experience it in the same way. It is felt in varying degrees and I gather that you felt it most acutely.’

She nodded.

‘And now?’ asked Lady Ludlow, her eyes inquisitive. ‘Do you love him now?’

This time she did not have to wait for an answer for it came almost immediately.

‘Yes, Lady Ludlow,’ she said and unable to stop herself, she continued fervently, ‘I am aware that you always intended me to marry well and that there are those who may consider Mr Carter as not a gentleman. I can only say that while there are indeed those who hold a higher rank in society or are perhaps in possession of more charming qualities, none of them I believe will ever equal the genuine goodness of his character. In that he is superior to any gentleman in England and for that I love him with all my heart.’

The last part of her declaration seemed outrageously sentimental, Laurentia thought inwardly, but she could have sworn she saw a small smile twisting the corners of her ladyship’s lips.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I wish much joy, my dear. I am glad at least that I have not failed in my duty to you and Mr Carter.’

Moved by her words, Laurentia said, ‘It is not only I and Mr Carter who are indebted to you, my lady. You must think of Hanbury and the hundreds of good souls who live here and by your generosity.’

Lady Ludlow could only manage a sad smile, the thought of the mortgage on the very same land still causing her much grief. But she said nothing about it and said quietly, ‘I will not keep you any longer, Laurentia. Your beau will be waiting for you most anxiously.’

She flushed a little, still unused to thinking of Edward as her beau.

‘If you could tell Mr Carter to see me tomorrow morning, I will more than happy to discuss a suitable date with him.’

Laurentia left the drawing room considerably happier than she did upon entering it and with only one thought in mind; Edward, she had to speak with him at once!

Her pace quickened and the moment she had exited the house, she all but ran to the office, not caring in the least of what the servants thought of her. Her hurried footsteps outside must have alerted him for she heard a chair scraping against the floor from within and a minute or so later, Edward appeared in the passageway.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘It was as I told you, Edward. She has given her consent and wishes to speak with you tomorrow morning to set a date.’

‘Good God,’ he breathed and he stepped forward. ‘Is it really true?’

‘Would I have any reason to say otherwise?’

‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t,’ he replied and it gladdened her immensely to see him restored to spirits. ‘I only wonder why she did not give her consent earlier.’ He looked at her closely. ‘You were away for some time; surely it wasn’t only a formality to be discussed if this was the case.’

‘No,’ she confessed slowly. ‘There was a great deal spoken about you.’

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. ‘About me? Why, you’re blushing a little, Laurentia – this isn’t like you at all.’

Although she attempted to evade his questions, it was in vain.

‘What did you say about me which finally managed to persuade her?’

She looked up at him steadily. ‘If you must know, I do believe that the whole point of my meeting with her this afternoon was that she wanted to ascertain whether I loved you or not.’

Her words had an astonishing effect on him; his body became quite still and he looked at her with such intensity that her first instinct was to look away but found that she could not.

‘And what did you say?’ he asked, his voice barely audible.

‘I said I did and with all my heart.’

In a flash, there was the sound of ground being trodden underfoot, the warmth of his arms around her and then his lips descending upon hers. Although Edward usually kept his emotions in check, this was not the first time that he had surprised her so. However, she had no intention of ever putting an end to it as long as she lived.

They would have no doubt continued to remain outside in the cold had it not been for the sound of something smashing onto the floor.

‘Harry –’ he murmured in annoyance as he released her from his embrace.

Looking behind him, she caught sight of Harry quickly darting out of view at the window.

‘I do believe that we’ve been found out,’ she said.  ‘I’ve always said Harry was a clever boy.’

‘If only he could have picked a better time to satisfy his natural curiosity,’ he grumbled but he smiled a little regardless, if a little bashfully. ‘However, I do believe I know who shall be the first to know of our engagement now that we are officially betrothed,’ he added and looking pointedly at his office. ‘I take it that you agree?’

‘Most certainly.’


	9. Calls and a Valentine

Laurentia’s predictions proved to be correct. As soon as the banns were read out by Reverend Hutton at the next Sunday service, she had the honour of having what appeared to be the whole of Cranford calling upon her.

While she felt no apprehension about the visits of Miss Matty and Miss Mary Smith whose company she did not mind in the least, theirs would have to wait. As expected, Miss Pole and Mrs Forrester were with the unerring dependability of a chronometer the first to offer their congratulations. They declared that they had both come with the intention of purchasing a new bonnet each but it was obvious that their true purpose was more akin to a reconnaissance than anything else.  After being given barely enough time to explain what the latest fashions were, Laurentia was soon plunged into a one-sided and at times, frantically paced conversation.

Both were insatiable in desire to know details of the wedding, who was to be present, whether Mr Carter had gone down on bended knee – if that had indeed been possible, of course, added Mrs Forrester self-consciously – to propose to her and so on. Part of her was naturally flattered by the attention but being her introverted self, she dearly wished for the interview to end and she bore it with as much patience as she could muster, her mind wandering occasionally towards that small supply of snuff in the backroom and which she always kept ready in trying times such as these.

‘You are indeed fortunate to have her ladyship’s blessing, Miss Galindo,’ said Miss Pole, the awe evident in her voice. Although Mrs Forrester had frequently informed her of the fact that she was a baronet’s daughter, she had never regarded her as anything more than the town’s milliner. Thus to have her forthcoming marriage so openly supported by the liege lady of Cranford was an occurrence of great import. 

‘I believe that that is mostly due to Mr Carter’s position as her long-standing estate manager, Miss Pole,’ replied Laurentia, deliberately omitting to mention her own personal connection with Lady Ludlow had played its part in gaining her attention in the matter. She had spent nearly two decades quite comfortably without revealing it and she had no intention of disclosing it now.

‘And when will the wedding take place, Miss Galindo?’ asked Mrs Forrester.

‘We have settled for a date in June. The weather will be much warmer then and this year I find myself commissioned once again to make the coronets for May Day. All of us agreed that it would be for the best if I fulfilled that particular duty first.’

‘A perfectly sensible arrangement. It is very heartening to see that this June will be a far better one than the last. And Mr Carter, I do hope that he is fully recovered now?’

‘His leg troubles him a little at times but I am happy to report that he has more or less returned to his normal good health. He informs me that he was most grateful for your bread pudding, Mrs Forrester, during his convalescence. I believe that he has often wanted to give you his thanks but was unable to find the opportunity.’

‘Oh, it was the least I could do for such a good gentleman as Mr Carter.’ Mrs Forrester had always had a high regard for Lady Ludlow’s estate manager and there was no higher token of her regard than to prepare some of her famous bread pudding, the recipe of which was so precious that she had no intention of ever divulging during her lifetime. She appeared greatly inspired on the subject but a warning look from Miss Pole told her to keep her peace.

‘And will Mr Logue be playing any part in the ceremony?’ asked Miss Pole.

‘My dear Miss Pole, you must remember that they have only been engaged a fortnight,’ whispered Mrs Forrester and smiling at Miss Galindo, she added, ‘These things take up so much of one’s time, Miss Galindo. I recollect that the late Colonel and I took weeks only trying to decide which cake to have at our wedding. I doubt that you and Mr Carter have had much time to think so far ahead.’

‘No, we have not had that pleasure yet. However I am certain that these things will be known in due course.’ In any case, she doubted whether anything could be kept from Miss Pole for long.

‘We will miss you a great deal,’ said Mrs Forrester sadly. ‘Oh, and what shall we do without you, Miss Galindo? The Johnsons, of course, have their share of fine things and bonnets but they will never be comparable to yours.’

‘Oh, please do console yourself, Mrs Forrester,’ said Laurentia gently and not a little touched by her words. ‘While I shall indeed be leaving King Street, I will not be moving very far.’

‘Really, Mrs Forrester, do not exaggerate so; Hanbury is only two miles away,’ said Miss Pole impatiently. ‘They will not be moving abroad, thank heaven.’ Here she cast an uncertain glance towards Miss Galindo. ‘Unless of course Mr Carter has decided otherwise?’

‘No, his work naturally obliges him to remain here. However I think there is no place in the world he would ever consider moving to from Cranford and I share his opinion.’

Miss Pole nodded vigorously. Any gentleman who declared that Cranford was the best of all places readily obtained her approval and though she was no great admirer of the male sex, Mr Carter rose a little higher in her estimation.

Laurentia turned her attention to the catalogue which she had been holding for the past half hour. ‘Now, ladies, did you have anything particular in mind?’

*

‘I hope Dr Marshland will not attempt to repeat his prank of last year,’ said Miss Matty as she and Mary Smith admired the newest Valentine cards on display at Johnsons. ‘Although I am sure that he meant no harm, it went quite out of hand and what unnecessary distress he caused as a result. Poor Dr Harrison!’

‘I am sure that he will not do so again this year,’ declared Mary with confidence. ‘After I confronted him on the matter, he was most repentant.’

‘Thankfully all was well in the end, I dread to think what would have happened had you not decided to intervene, Mary.’

The sound of footsteps behind them attracted her attention and turning round, she saw Mr Carter making his slow but steady way across King Street.

‘My dear Mr Carter,’ she called. At the sound of his name, he turned and made his approach. ‘I hope you are quite well?’

‘Very well, thank you, Miss Matty. I trust you are the same?’

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Carter. Miss Smith and I had the pleasure of calling upon Miss Galindo the other day.’

At the very mention of his affianced’s name, Miss Matty saw a light enter his eyes and his countenance usually so hard and stern softened at once. What wonders love did to people, she thought warmly.

‘And seeing that we have given her our very best wishes,’ added Mary, ‘it is only natural that we should extend them to you, Mr Carter.’

‘My thanks to the both of you,’ he replied with feeling. He paused then said, ‘Though perhaps had it not been for Dr Harrison’s swift intervention, I would not now be in a position to accept them. You too did your part that day, Miss Smith; I have not forgotten.’

Mary shuddered a little at the memory. She had only been a witness to the whole operation but it was something she was unlikely to ever forget. Thus she could only imagine what the ordeal had been like for him and it surprised her a little at how willing he was to speak of it.

‘You are too kind. The part I played that day was a very small one. I was only too happy to have been of assistance that afternoon and I am glad that you are have now recovered.’

Nodding wordlessly, his eyes fell briefly upon the window display behind them.

Following the direction of his gaze, Miss Matty said, ‘We find that Mr Johnson is quite with the times, Mr Carter. Machines making Valentine cards; I believe my sister would not have approved.’

‘No, she probably wouldn’t have,’ he agreed, remembering how the late Miss Deborah Jenkyns had been such a force to reckon with during her lifetime. ‘It is a fact however that industrialisation is increasing in our times, Miss Matty, whether we like it or not. Society in general can undoubtedly profit from it –’ he stopped for a moment, thinking remorsefully of the thousands sitting in the bank which he had accumulated this very same way, ‘– but ordinary folk suffer as a result. We must therefore do more and not less for them now.’

‘Indeed, Mr Carter. You will not be purchasing one of these cards then, I imagine.’

‘You imagine correctly.’

‘Would you have anything else in mind for Miss Galindo this Valentine’s Day?’

He cleared his throat a little self-consciously but before he could reply, she had already chided herself for her forwardness.

‘Oh dear, do forgive me,’ she said apologetically and glancing at Mary for support. ‘You must think me most impudent.’

‘Miss Matty, please do not distress yourself,’ he said and she was immediately put at ease by his reassuring tone.

Mary smiled. ‘I am sure that Mr Carter is anything but offended,’ she said soothingly. ‘Are you, Mr Carter?’

‘Not in the least,’ he replied, a glimmer of a smile on his face.

‘Well, that puts my mind very much at ease,’ said Miss Matty in relief.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Galindo exit from her millinery, clearly preparing to close her parlour for the day.

‘My apologies, ladies, but I’m afraid I must beg my leave.’

‘But of course, Mr Carter. We will not detain you any longer.’

Thanking them once again and wishing them both a good day, he crossed the street and the two ladies watched him as he joined his affianced, the latter evidently surprised but happy to see him. Miss Matty and Mary shared a smile as they saw them walk arm in arm down King Street, engrossed in quiet conversation and acknowledging this or that passerby as they went past them.

‘A lovely couple, are they not, Mary?’ said Miss Matty.

Mary nodded. ‘They are indeed.’

*

When Miss Matty had asked him about his plans for Valentine’s Day, Mr Carter had felt slightly awkward in front of her and Miss Smith, partly because he was not used to being asked such questions and in so public a manner but mostly because he had little idea what to prepare for his bride to be. For the past five years, he had treated the day like any other and he found that it was difficult to return to that particular frame of mind.

In spite of the difficulty and a certain degree of reluctance, his progress was hastened by two people. One was Logue, who after showering him with the heartiest of congratulations had proceeded to quiz him over what he had planned for the day, an irritating but wholly cheerful glint in his eye. Carter had dodged his questions after quickly changing the topic but it was not as easy to evade Harry.

‘You may have Miss Pole and Mrs Forrester to deal with, Laurentia,’ he said quietly when Harry had left the office to make more ink, ‘But you forget that I have Harry to keep me company as well.’

She glanced fondly at the temporarily vacated table between them before saying, ‘You are too hard on him, Edward. I think it is perfectly natural for him to ask us such things. After all, I doubt that he has ever had the chance to see a wedding firsthand, much less the preparations which go into it.’

‘That may be so,’ he said. He then added lowly, a smile playing on his lips: ‘But if I am to speak plainly; if I could have my way, I wouldn’t stand on ceremony at all and marry you this instant.’

‘Edward!’ she cried, and to her great embarrassment, she found that she was more pleased than shocked by the prospect and felt her cheeks flush upon this realisation.

‘Are you all right, Miss Galindo?’ said Harry as he chose this moment to re-enter the room, a pot of newly-made ink in his hand. ‘You’ve gone all red.’

‘Harry,’ said Mr Carter warningly but Miss Galindo it was all an act for she could well see the thinly veiled amusement in his blue eyes when he glanced in her direction. In spite of what everyone perceived him to be, she was beginning to realise that beneath his gruff exterior, the man could be just as mischievous as his young protégé when the mood took him.

Harry apologised to each of them in turn and handed over the ink before returning to his seat.

Some minutes passed, the only sound being that of nibs scratching against paper before Harry asked rather innocently into the silence:

‘Mr Carter, what are you going to give Miss Galindo for Valentine’s Day?’

Mr Carter’s hand stopped abruptly in mid-air as he reached to dip his pen into the inkwell. He was secretly glad that he had not yet managed to reach it otherwise he would have spilled it all over his desk.

He looked up, observing that she too had stopped writing, her gaze fixed upon his face and an expression on her face which seemed to convey that it was now her turn to be amused at his discomfiture. She quickly assumed a more serious expression in case Harry should turn her way but he did not.

‘I – ’ started Mr Carter before recollecting himself. ‘Harry, this is not the time or the place to be asking such things. Especially when Miss Galindo is present.’

‘Is it meant to be a surprise, sir?’

He coughed, looking down at letter he had been composing and mumbled more to himself than to anyone else in the room, ‘I think that is the general understanding.’

He was saved from further discussion on the matter when Miss Galindo proceeded to ask Harry what he knew of Valentine’s Day and its traditions. Mr Carter knew at once that she was distracting him in order to give him some respite from his uneasiness and he was wholly grateful.

His resolve to find something suitable for her strengthened and he pondered long and hard over this unusual dilemma of his. There lingered at the back of his mind a voice which chided him that a man of his age and station in society had more important things to do and that he should have long dispensed with such frivolities but he was determined to go through with it. At last he found what he required and not a moment too soon for the fourteenth fell upon Cranford with astonishing rapidity.

Soon a variety of gifts and cards were delivered to the ladies of the town which, for perhaps the first time in her life, also included Miss Galindo who was taken quite unawares. A knock upon her door alerted her of the arrival of a small but carefully wrapped package.

It came with no note or flowers and she opened it with curiosity. Soon she was in possession of a fine pair of lilac kid gloves, delicately embroidered at the cuffs in light blue thread. A note was folded between them on which was simply written in his steady hand:

_To my dearest Laurentia_

_From your own Edward_

There were no flowery salutations or over-amorous declarations of love but it was entirely his style and it only served to increase her appreciation for him.

When she saw him on the grounds at Hanbury later that afternoon, he had appeared a little anxious when she approached, almost as if he was unsure whether his gift had been well-received.

‘I hope they are to your liking,’ he said when she mentioned them.

‘They are quite exquisite. I like them a great deal.’

‘I am glad of it,’ he said with obvious relief, clasping her hand in his other hand as she took his arm. ‘I was quite concerned that you would not like them or even worse, laughed at my lack of good taste. In any case, you would have been quite justified if that had happened.’

‘You do no credit to yourself for thinking so. I could not have chosen better myself.’

‘Do I sense a compliment in that declaration?’

‘Not at all, I speak entirely in earnest.’

‘You are much too good to me.’  

They had nearly reached his office when she said, ‘Just one moment, Edward.’

He looked at her, puzzled. ‘Whatever for?’

‘I haven’t given you my gift yet.’

‘A gift?’

‘Well, when one receives a gift, it is customary to give one in return, is it not?’ she said with a smile. She retrieved the portfolio which she had brought with her and presented it to him.

He took it, uncertain of what to expect. When he opened it, she saw his eyes widen in surprise for in his hands was the drawing she had begun on the day of the garden party. It depicted him in profile, as she often found him when he looked out onto the grounds. His eyes were focused on some spot in the near distance, an intensity in them so very much his own. In the past few months, she had taken the little time she had to herself to eventually improve and finish it but she had never thought of giving it to him until this morning.

‘Does it meet with your approval?’ she asked.

‘I confess I have always had a wish to see your sketches but never did I imagine you would have drawn me,’ he said when he found his voice again. ‘You have chosen a poor model, Laurentia; I can see why most of Cranford believes me to such a stern fellow. I shouldn’t be surprised if I terrified them all.’

‘Now you are being too harsh on yourself,’ she said and looking at the drawing before them. ‘I for one do not see that.’

‘Do you not?’

‘No. I only see the man who one day came into my parlour with flowers and within an hour convinced me what a splendid man he was.’

‘Now you are being quite biased,’ he said. In spite of his attempts to appear otherwise, she could see that her words had affected him and she felt him squeeze her hand in appreciation as they went inside.


End file.
